A Dying World
by crankyman7
Summary: As the 37th anniversary of his arcade approaches, Mr. Litwak is painfully aware that his flourishing business is a rarity; arcades are a dying breed. The games' characters are soon to become aware of this as well. While Mr. Litwak battles the passage of time, they will have to face an organization determined to make sure they don't forget their outdated status.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This is set after my earlier story, _Pangs of Confusion_. The events of that story will be referenced in this one from time to time, and a major character from that fic will be reappearing here in a supporting role. While you might possibly derive enjoyment from _A Dying World_ without knowledge of the earlier fic, certain things will make make much more sense if you've read _Pangs of Confusion_.

* * *

**Chapter One**

**Mr. Litwak's Thirty-Seventh Year of Business**

At eight o'clock in the evening, on Monday, August 22nd, Mr. Litwak shut the doors of his arcade and turned the sign around so that anyone looking through the window would see the word **Closed**. Sighing, he leaned against the wall to catch his breath. It wasn't that he'd had an overly strenuous day. The kids were usually fairly well behaved, and what few disputes arose tended to get settled quite easily. No, it was just that he wasn't the same energetic man at sixty that he had been at twenty three.

_Thirty-seven years_ he realized. _Come November, I'll have been in the business for thirty-seven years._

He stepped away from the wall, steadier now, and gazed about the now quiet arcade. He remembered when he had first purchased the building, back in 1979. A budding entrepreneur, he'd been fascinated by recent developments in computers and other electronic technologies. Not that he'd ever been the computer expert that his best friend Albert had been, but he'd been fascinated nonetheless. And of all the developments, it had been _Pong_ that caught his eye the most strongly.

It had been over the Christmas Holidays when he and Albert had discovered it. They'd played it for hours, until the owners of the store where it was had to ask them to leave. Nonetheless, the euphoria of the experience stayed with them. Albert had become a video game developer as a result, while he, Stan Litwak, had chosen to open an arcade.

Naturally, the first game Mr. Litwak acquired was _Pong_. Others soon followed, from _Space Invaders, _to _Asteroids_, to _Fix-It-Felix Jr._ And every week, the customers always came. Day after day, they came, and Mr. Litwak reveled in the atmosphere around him, delighting in the presence of so many who shared his passion.

Certainly, there had been hiccups along the way. There was that time he'd had to unplug both _Turbo Time _and _Road Blasters_, for one. But by and large, operating the arcade had been a pleasure. It still was which didn't surprise him; age had slowed his movements but inside, he was still very much the kid who'd been shooed away from _Pong_.

What _did_ surprise him was that the arcade was still flourishing. Since the end of the 1990s, the industry had been shrinking in the United States, as consoles flooded the market and stole customers away. Despite this, Litwak's Arcade still received its weekly glut of customers. Mr. Litwak wasn't sure why, but he wasn't about to complain about his good fortune.

He walked through the darkened arcade, eying the various games. He passed by _Dance Dance Revolution_, doing a quick shuffle. This prompted him to wince at the resulting pain in his joints, and he stopped.

Shaking his head at his own antics, he moved on past _Sugar Rush._ For a time, it'd had been the most popular game in the arcade, with the sudden discovery of the character Vanellope von Schweetz. He still didn't know why, two weeks after it'd been plugged in in the summer of 1997, it'd stopped choosing her for the list of racers for the next fifteen years. After all, she _was _on the game's poster. But all of a sudden, she'd come back, and for the next six months or so, she'd been the most popular racer of all.

Then, there came the arguments. Vanellope's teleportation abilities were too great an advantage, some gamers insisted. It wasn't fair when anyone got to play her, since she usually always won. Eventually, player's started implementing unofficial "No Vanellope" rules. Then the disputes died away as other games became more popular and the lines for _Sugar Rush_ went back down to their normal levels.

Walking by _Hero's Duty_, Mr. Litwak smiled at the sheer absurdity of its storyline.

_Cybugs, the clichéd "spouse killed at the altar" scene, genetic experiments, the wooden dialogue..._ He smiled again. _Yep, sure is a fun game._

"Hey Felix," he said, as he came to a stop beside _Fix-It-Felix Jr._ "Still working after all these years, are you? Great." He paused. "I still don't know how Q-Bert got into your game, but it sure was a nifty surprise."

Again, Mr. Litwak had to smile at his own child-like enthusiasm.

_Talking to my games_.

But then, they were almost like old friends.

As he turned back towards the door, Mr. Litwak spotted _Pong_. He approached it slowly, almost with reverence.

_The game that started it all_. _The one that got me stuck where I am now_.

He smiled fondly at the memories. He'd been positively giddy when he'd acquired the game for his newly opened arcade. It was almost a miracle that the thirty-seven year old machine was still running, but he was glad it did. He would miss Otis and Floyd when their game finally broke down.

Otis and Floyd- during that first session, in a moment of playfulness, he'd given these names to the paddles. When he finally purchased his own copy, he and Albert had started playing it again, reliving their shared memories. The names had come back to him then, and this time, they'd stuck.

"Take care of yourself boys," Mr. Litwak said, patting the side of the game. "I'll be back in the morning."

Slowly, he headed towards the door, past the other games, and towards the door. Once there, he paused.

_The thirty-seventh anniversary of my arcade. I wish Albert were here to celebrate with me. I wonder what's become of him since he moved out to California? Haven't heard from him in- how many years? Ten? Maybe I should finally try this Facebook thing the kids keep talking about, see if he's on there._

With a sigh, Mr. Litwak exited the building and locked the doors. He walked down the sidewalk to his car, got in, and started the engine.

_Back to the house, where I can get some dinner and relax. No kids, no wife…_

He chuckled.

_Still an old bachelor. Nice job fighting the gamer stereotype, Stan_.

The engine revved up and Mr. Litwak pulled out of the driveway.

_I'll be back in the morning_ he told himself once more.

He wore a smile all the way home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**After Four Years of Friendship**

Although he was unaware of it, a pair of small eyes had been watching Mr. Litwak when he had approached _Fix-It-Felix Jr._ They were those of the game's villain, Wreck-It-Ralph. The wrecker's ears had heard every word the old arcade owner had said. Glancing over at Q-Bert, who was standing beside him, Ralph winked.

"You hear that?" he said. "He still doesn't know how you got here."

" %$^," said Q-Bert.

"That's what I thought," said Ralph, turning away.

Just then, he overheard the voice of one of the dancer's from _Dance Dance Revolution_ calling out that the arcade was now empty.

"Anyway, I've got to be off," said Ralph. "I can't be late to _Sugar Rush_. Gotta find out what Citizen Vanellope has in mind for tonight."

"#$%%?" Q-Bert asked.

"Yes I know it's not official. She just likes the title."

Q-Bert said something else.

"What, you mean she forget to apologize to you?"

Q-Bert nodded.

"I'll remind her," Ralph promised.

"%^&&**," said Q-Bert.

"Right, I'll tell her- no more putting whoopee cushions on Q-Bert's chair."

" #^*))!" Q-Bert added.

"Or he'll do the same to her," Ralph repeated. "Hey Q-Bert, isn't that a little low?"

Q-Bert's eyes narrowed.

"All right, all right!" Ralph said, raising his hands defensively and backing away. "I'll tell her."

"No sense of humor," Ralph muttered as he walked away.

Q-Bert shouted something else after him.

"Yes, I _know_ you heard that," Ralph called over his shoulder. "Bye, Q-Bert."

* * *

In three months, it would be four years since Ralph had first met Vanellope. The years since that November night had been the best of his entire life. So much fun and enjoyment had been packed within them that he could live with the occasional negative experiences he'd had- though he couldn't always forget them.

_Dr. Despair. At least the creep keeps a low profile. Not that he has much of a choice. Who would welcome him anywhere after what he tried to do?_

Of course, even that crisis had brought about good results, in that Vanellope had learned a little humility. Not that it had cured her mischievous nature. If anything, it had been amplified afterwards for a time. Considering what she'd gone through, Ralph was hardly about to begrudge her the pranks- even if he'd been the victim of several.

And then there had been the "No Vanellope" incidents. An ordinary gaming habit it may have been, but it had sent her spiraling into depression for over two weeks. The loss of _Sugar Rush'_s status as the arcade's most popular game had sent the issue underground for a while. While the problem had occasionally resurfaced, it had never sent her into the dumps for so long again: Ralph had seen to that personally.

_It was probably good for her in the end. She's more of a zest for life than ever._

And then, as he stepped into the cart that would take him to Game Central Station, Ralph remembered the incident with the hairdresser.

_Then again, that's something of a two-edged sword for the rest of us. I hope she never discovers caffeine, or we'll all be in some pretty big trouble. I've kept her away from it so far, but…_

As the cart began to roll forward, Ralph shook his head.

"Enough of that," he told himself. "Think happy thoughts, Ralph. Think happy thoughts."

_And then I'll be able to fly…_

"Shut up, brain of mine!" Ralph exclaimed. "It wouldn't work, I don't have pixie dust."

The cart rolled to a stop at the end of the wire and Ralph stepped out into Game Central Station. The Surge Protector popped up, as he always did, and Ralph sighed.

"Name?" said the voice, a tad less monotonous than in former times.

"Wreck-It-Ralph," said Ralph, sighing once again.

"Destination?"

"_Sugar Rush_."

"Are you carrying anything?"

"Nope."

"Anything to tell me?"

"I'll never get used to you."

"That doesn't surprise me," said the Surge Protector, giving a small laugh that sounded like somebody the fake, sarcastic laughing of somebody mocking another.

Ralph looked quizzically at the Surge Protector.

"I have learned how to laugh," said the Surge Protector.

"That's…nice," said Ralph, stepping away. The Surge Protector sighed and vanished from sight.

As Ralph entered the wire that would take him to _Sugar Rush_, he slapped his forehead.

"I've gotta think happy thoughts," he reminded himself as he stepped into the cart and set it into motion. "No more worrying about the Surge Protector, no more worrying about what'll happen tonight…"

_I hope they don't have caffeine where we're going-_

"My brain," Ralph growled. "Will you _please_ shut it?"

The art rolled to a stop at the end of the wire and Ralph got out. Passing through the entrance, he found himself in familiar territory.

"I could probably find my way to the castle with my eyes shut by now," Ralph said aloud. "I think I'll try it."

Closing his eyes, he stepped forward, went down the rainbow, and entered the fields below. Everything went perfectly until he tripped over a massive jawbreaker and fell flat on his face into a pool of green icing.

"Never mind," said Ralph, opening his eyes, standing up, and brushing the icing from his face and clothes. He kept his eyes open the rest of the way to the castle.

* * *

Vanellope was waiting for Ralph inside the entrance hall of the castle. As soon as she saw him, she turned several cartwheels and began shouting: "Yes! You're here, you're here!"

"Yep," said Ralph. "I'm here. You said you had something in mind for tonight?"

"Yeah- a beach party in _Lifeguard_!"

"Oh," said Ralph.

Vanellope stopped turning cartwheels and turned to face Ralph.

"What's the matter? You got a problem with _Lifeguard_?"

"Nah, no problem with it," said Ralph. "I just…I don't think I've got a swimsuit stashed away anywhere?"

"Who said you have to swim, silly?" said Vanellope. "This is _Lifeguard_- the water's crawling with sharks anyway. _Duh_."

"So, we stick to land then," said Ralph, smiling. "Great."

"And build sandcastles!" Vanellope cried. "Huge sandcastles! And-"

She stopped, a smile on her face. The smile quickly widened into a grin and within moments, she was laughing hysterically.

"What?" said Ralph. "What is it?"

"You're…you're…" Vanellope broke down again into another fit of giggling before exclaiming: "your hair's green!"

Ralph glanced into a nearby mirror. His hair was still coated in green icing from the pool he had fallen into.

"Oh, that," he said, grinning sheepishly. "It's a…new fashion I'm trying…yeah."

Vanellope's expression and tone was deadpan.

"You fell in a pool of icing, didn't you?"

"No, no," said Ralph. "I was just scooping some up, figured I'd give use it to fix my hair and…okay fine, I fell in a pool of icing."

"While walking with your eyes shut?" Vanellope asked in the same deadpan voice.

"Hey, no need to rub it in," said Ralph.

"Whatever, Stinkbrain," said Vanellope. She laughed once more. "It _does _look good though."

"You mean that?" Ralph asked.

"Yes!" Vanellope cried, posing melodramatically.

"Okay, I'll wash it off then."

Ignoring Vanellope's look of disappointment, Ralph said: "You know, I've been down to _Lifeguard_ once before. I don't think the sharks attack anyone when the arcade closes- they're actually pretty friendly."

"Cool!" Vanellope cried. "We can go surfing then."

"Yeah, well…maybe I'll pass on that one," said Ralph. "I'll let you and the other racers do that."

"Aw, come on Ralph," said Vanellope. "Surfing's fun."

"Well, if there's a board big enough for me…"

"I'm sure we'll find one," said Vanellope. "Let me go tell the other racers we're ready."

As Vanellope hurried away towards another door, Ralph looked in the mirror again. Glancing around to make sure no one was looking, he scraped the green icing from his hair into a nearby pot. As he turned back, he saw Vanellope returning with the other racers. Each of them wore a backpack containing supplies for the party.

"Where'd the icing go?" Vanellope asked as she approached Ralph.

"I ate it," said Ralph. He licked his lips for added effect. "It was actually pretty good."

"Okay Stinkbrain, have it your way," Vanellope replied. "Anyway, you ready for the party?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," said Ralph.

"Great, then let's go!

As the other racers headed for the doors, Ralph took Vanellope aside.

"Listen," he said. "I gotta tell you- Q-Bert's pretty mad about that prank you pulled on him, says you never apologized."

"Huh? Oh I thought I did," said Vanellope. "I'll dip by his house later and tell him sorry."

"Alright," said Ralph. "Good."

Ralph decided to leave out the rest of Q-Bert's message for the time being. It wouldn't do to have Vanellope freaking out over Q-Bert getting his revenge on her when they we're about to go to a beach party.

_Think happy thoughts Ralph,_ he reminded himself.

The last of the racers was exiting the castle; only Vanellope was left.

"Come on Ralph!" she cried, beckoning him forward with a wave of her hand. "Forward, my minion- or shall I sprinkle pixie dust on you to make you fly?"

Ralph sighed at this last comment.

"What- did I say something wrong?" said Vanellope, looking concerned.

"Nah, don't worry about it," said Ralph. "It's nothing."

"Oh, okay," said Vanellope. She dashed out of the castle. Shaking his head, Ralph followed her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**Beach Party**

"Ah, I should have known I'd end up buried in sand," Ralph muttered. "At least my head's still free, so I can breathe."

His head was the only part of him still above ground. Vanellope had seen to that. He turned to watch her, standing proudly beside a massive sandcastle she'd just finished building with Rancis.

"Hey Ralph," she called. "Check this out."

Ralph clenches his fists and pushed the sand off of his torso with several forceful blows. Sitting up, he turned to see Vanellope and Rancis standing beside a pile of sand, dejected looks on their faces.

"Where'd the sandcastle go?" Ralph asked.

"That took two hours to build," Rancis said in a forlorn voice.

"Whoops," said Ralph. He brushed the sand from his legs and stood up. "Sorry. The sand must have hit the castle and…"

His voice trailed off.

"Sorry," he said again after a few moments.

"Yes, well…" Vanellope began. She smiled. "We can still surf." She seized a surfboard lying nearby. "Come on, Ralph!"

"Woah, I don't know about that," said Ralph. "I'd better stay on the beach."

"Party-pooper," Vanellope taunted.

"I'd probably break the board," said Ralph.

"You know," said Rancis, "Ralph's probably right."

Vanellope looked Ralph up and down.

"I guess you're right," she said. "Want to take one of the boats instead?"

"Okay," said Ralph. "I'll go check with the lifeguard, see if I can use one."

"No need," said Rancis. "I already rented one for the night."

"Wait- how did you…?"

"Being a leader has its perks," said Rancis.

"You didn't pull the 'I'm President' card, did you?" Ralph asked.

"Look, if it helps, I took an oath on a dictionary to keep it in good shape."

"Okay, Rancis, okay," said Ralph. "Which boat?"

Rancis pointed towards the dock. "See that one?"

"The little white one?" said Ralph, gazing at a small, unadorned speedboat. "That'll do nicely."

"No, not that one," said Rancis. "The one beside it."

Ralph turned his gaze upon the next boat down. It was sleek and shiny, with an orange lightning bolt emblem along each side that contrasted sharply with the black paint. Closer to the front, the title _S. S. Awesome_ was painted above the waterline in bold, white lettering.

"Had to pick the best one," said Rancis. "I couldn't settle for less."

"I can understand that," said Ralph. "Anyway, thanks." He headed down the beach until he arrived alongside the dock. Stepping out onto the wharf, he approached the _S. S. Awesome_. He looked it over one more time.

"The name's fitting," he said as he stepped into the boat. Settling into the pilot's seat, he eyed the various controls.

"I guess this one starts it," he said, activating the engine. He backed the boat out of dock…and straight onto the sand. Frowning, Ralph sent the boat back into the water, only to crash straight through the wharf. He winced at the sound of splintering wood. The wharf regenerated as soon as the boat was passed, however, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Gazing about at the water, he saw several figures on surfboards, flowing through the water with apparent ease. He spotted Vanellope and steered the boat towards her until it was cruising beside her board. Hearing the sound of the motor, Vanellope turned her head.

"Wanna race, Stinkbrain?"

"I'd win," said Ralph. "I've got an engine."

"You certain of that?" said Vanellope. "Watch this."

She rode her surfboard up onto the top of a wave several yards ahead.

"Not bad, huh?" she called. "I'm queen the waves, I'm-"

The wave collapsed, sending Vanellope tumbling from the board and into the ocean.

"Vanellope!" Ralph called. "I'm coming! Grab onto something."

Vanellope reached for her surfboard, but it bobbed away out of her reach. She tried to swim for shore, but the waves sent her crashing under. Seeing this, Ralph increased his speed, heading towards the spot where Vanellope had vanished. Taffyta was already there. She'd seen the accident and had steered her board straight for Vanellope. As Ralph reached the spot, he heard Taffyta frantically calling their friend's name.

"She's not there," Taffyta said as she saw Ralph. "I tried to catch her, but…"

Just then, Vanellope rose to the surface. She'd lost her hair ring, and her hair was now splayed about the water, floating gently. Her eyes were shut, and she looked as though she wasn't breathing. Beside the top of her head was a large grey fin.

"Sh…shark!" Taffyta stammered. "Shark!"

The shark raised its head above the water. "I'll have you know I'm the friendly sort when there's not a quarter alert," it said. "Anyway, better take this kid. She's swallowed a ton of water I reckon."

"Thanks," said Ralph as he hauled Vanellope into the boat.

"No problem," said the shark, diving back below the water.

Ralph piloted the boat back to shore quickly. He leaped out of the boat, Vanellope in his arms. The lifeguard, who had rushed out as soon as he saw the accident, saw Ralph's action and turned back towards the shore. Arriving at the same time as Ralph, he laid Vanellope down on the sand and began the process of reviving her. As Ralph watched anxiously, he saw Vanellope spit out seawater, and then cough. She opened her eyes.

"Wha..what…happened?" she asked. "Was I showing off again?"

"Yes," said Ralph.

"Oh dear," said Vanellope as the lifeguard helped her into a sitting position. "I'm sorry. How did I get afloat again? The last thing I remember is blacking out."

"A shark," said Taffyta, who had just arrived back at land. Carrying her board, she approached Vanellope. "A shark saved you."

"I was on the back of a shark?" Vanellope smiled. "That's cool."

"Anyway, you'd better stay out of the water for a bit," said Ralph. "Take few sips of something, relax."

"Come with me," said Taffyta, taking Vanellope by the arm. "Let's go get a snack."

"No caffeine for her," Ralph mouthed at Taffyta.

"Got it," Taffyta mouthed back.

As the Vanellope and Taffyta rejoined the other racers, who had just arrived back at the beach, Ralph thanked the lifeguard. This done, he got back into the boat, started it again, and steered it back into the dock. He stepped onto the wharf once more and then back onto the sand.

"Guess I could use a soda myself," he said aloud, heading back towards the racers. "Anyway, good thing we got her back safely. The rest of this party should roll smoothly now."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

**Caffeine**

Unfortunately for Ralph, things were not going to go so smoothly after all. When he reached the stretch of sand where the other racers were, Vanellope was glitching about at frightening speed, chattering almost to the point of being incomprehensible. On the sand, a half-liter bottle of soda lay completely empty. The other racers looked on helplessly, not knowing what to do.

"I'm sorry!" Taffyta pleaded as Ralph slapped his forehead. "I only turned my back for a moment, and she chugged the whole thing."

"The _whole thing_?" said Ralph

Taffyta gulped. "Yes."

Ralph looked at Vanellope again. She had started alternately spinning like a top and standing on her head.

"I'd better take her out of here," said Ralph. "You guys clean up and get back to _Sugar Rush_. I'm afraid this party's over."

"What about the Random Roster Race?" Rancis asked. "We'll still have to do that before the night's over. And Vanellope's one of the racers."

"I think she'll be a no-show tonight," said Ralph. He grabbed Vanellope by the hair to get her attention.

"Ow!" she cried. "Oh, it's you Ralph. That hurt you know. Did you know soda is good? Why haven't you let me have it before? It's bubbly. It's bright. It makes me happy. I'm happy! I'm going to dance! I'm…"

"Vanellope," said Ralph. "Why don't you change out of your swimsuit?"

"Okay!" she said, grinning madly. "Say, have you seen that new game based on _The Scarlet Pimpernel_? They're making classic novels into games now! We've gotta-"

"Vanellope," said Ralph.

"What?"

"Just change out of your swimsuit."

* * *

The task of getting Vanellope back to _Sugar Rush_ with minimal disruption was hopeless from the start- at least the part about minimal disruption was. She indeed came back, but she was so hyperactive during the return trip that Ralph had to apologize continually to all the characters she accosted, or bumped into while turning cartwheels, in Game Central Station. The process took well over an hour.

Once they were back in _Sugar Rush_, Vanellope promptly ran straight down the rainbow path.

"Hey, wait up!" Ralph called.

"Catch me if you can!" Vanellope cried, continuing to run as fast as she could. "I'm faster than you- oof!"

She had crashed into a candy cane tree and was now flat on her back, breathing hard. Ralph took the opportunity to catch up to her. Grabbing her by the back of her jacket, he hauled her upright.

"What was I doing?" she asked, her voice much calmer than before.

"Vanellope," said Ralph. "Do you remember me telling you not to drink caffeinated soda?"

Vanellope looked thoughtful for several moments.

"Er…yes."

"Do you know why I said that?"

"How can I? You never really explained- oh wait, you did, but I've forgotten. Tell me again?"

"You're something of an energetic person," Ralph explained. "And caffeine is a stimulant. And if someone as high…high…" Ralph fumbled for the most tactful phrase to use.

Vanellope sighed. "Maintenance?" she asked.

"Well, I wasn't going to put it so bluntly, but yes."

"Ouch," Vanellope said glumly.

"The bottom line is you and half a liter of caffeinated soda don't go together. And you missed the Random Roster Race as a result."

"Oucher," said Vanellope.

"And you kind of embarrassed yourself- and me," Ralph added.

"Ouchest," said Vanellope.

"And those last two aren't even real words," said Ralph.

Vanellope's expression became still glummer.

"Come on, Citizen Fart-Feathers," said Ralph. "Let's get back to the castle."

"It's okay," said Vanellope. "I can make it from here."

"Hey, you sound a little too down," said Ralph. "Don't beat yourself up. Just take the lesson you learned and make it stick."

Vanellope raised her head, offering a slight smile. "No more caffeine," she said. "Cross my heart."

Now that's a bit more like the Vanellope I know," said Ralph. "You sure you can make it back to the castle?"

"Uh-huh," she replied.

"Alright then, until next time," said Ralph.

As he turned to go, he heard Vanellope crying: "Wait!"

"Yes?" said Ralph, turning back.

Vanellope pulled a small sack from her jacket pocket. "Give this to Q-Bert," she said. "I…uh…got it for him at the shop in _Lifeguard_. And tell him I'm sorry."

"I'll do that," said Ralph.

_I wonder what it is?_ he thought to himself as he headed back to Game Central Station. _But no- I can't open someone else's present._

* * *

As soon as Ralph arrived back in _Fix-It-Felix Jr._, he went straight to Q-Bert's house and knocked on the door.

" #$^^?" Q-Bert asked as he opened the door.

"We had some problems," said Ralph. "You probably already heard about them."

Q-Bert nodded.

"But everything's fine now," Ralph finished. "Anyway, I've a message from Vanellope. She says she's sorry."

"%%^?" Q-Bert asked.

"Yes, really," said Ralph. "And she got you a present." He laid the sack down in front of Q-Bert. Curious, Q-Bert poked around in the sack with his snout. His snout closed around an object which he withdrew and set on the ground before him. He stared at it for a moment, and then blushed with pleasure and fainted.

"A Rubik's Cube," said Ralph, eying the gift. "That sure was thoughtful of her."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

**The Art of the Arcade**

The next morning, Mr. Litwak arrived promptly at seven o'clock, as he almost always did. Whistling an air, he strode past the various game cabinets. As he passed by _Tapper's_ a series of small blue lights passed through the wire out of the game and into the power strip. He caught the blips out of the corner of his eye and glanced at the floor just in time to see them pass into the power strip.

"Huh?" he said. "What?"

The blue lights appeared again, this time in another wire that led them into _Street Fighter II_.

Mr. Litwak scratched his head. He'd seen the strange phenomenon several times before and each time, it still puzzled him. But the games never seemed to stop working as a result of it, and so he'd never asked any of the workmen about it.

_You'd almost think…no, that couldn't be._

He kept going until he was in his office. Once inside, he turned on his laptop. He had a good hour before the arcade would open- more than enough time to check his email.

Accessing the internet, he signed into his account. Scrolling down the list of messages, he saw one whose title caught his eye immediately: _The Art of the Arcade_. Curious, he clicked on it. The message read as follows:

_Dear Mr. Litwak,_

_As the owner of one of the oldest surviving arcades in the United States, we believe that our latest exhibit will be of especial interest to you. For this reason, we have taken the time to write you personally, inviting you to come see _The Art of the Arcade_, opening September 5th. The exhibit features several vintage arcade machines, including the ever famous _Pong, _and contains much information on the history and development of early video games from the 1970s to the early 1990s. We would welcome your presence, and would be delighted if you would stop by our office after closing for a brief chat. _

_Tickets for the first day will be half off._

_Sincerely,_

_The Manager and Staff of the Museum of Arts and Technology, Wilberforce, Kansas_

"It came here?" said Mr. Litwak. "That's great! I thought it was going to stay down in Fort Worth for a while longer." He smiled. "I think I'll be going to see this. Scratch that- I know I will."

* * *

During the next hour, the workers arrived and began helping to make sure everything was set up properly. At eight o'clock, Mr. Litwak unlocked the doors of the arcade.

He knew that until school, which had just started, let out for the day, there would mostly be adults. And so it proved. The arcade traffic was fairly slow until around four o'clock, when the children started to come in. As he had with the first batch of customers, Mr. Litwak greeted everyone at the door.

The last of the kids was one he recognized. Her name was Emily, and she'd been a regular customer over the past four years. She'd grown a bit since she'd first wandered in that November day, but she still had the same straw-colored hair and pink-rimmed glasses. Mr. Litwak recalled that day well- it was the day _Fix-It-Felix Jr._ had stopped working temporarily. He'd given Emily a replacement quarter that day for her pains.

_But I still don't know how I manage to remember her name_ Mr. Litwak thought. _So many customers come and go…_

"Good afternoon Mr. Litwak," said Emily as she walked by.

"And the same to you," said Mr. Litwak. "How'd school go?"

"Fine," said Emily. "Not much homework the first day, so here I am."

"Well, go have fun," said Mr. Litwak. "Let me know if you need anything."

He watched as Emily sped off to try the various games.

_Her enthusiasm- I love it._

He walked through the center of the arcade once more, watching his customers enjoy themselves. He stepped behind his desk and sat down, his eyes still glued to the customers.

_They're enjoying themselves, playing arcade games._

He recalled the words from the message.

_One of the oldest surviving arcades in the United States. My business is like a California condor around here. Why _do_ they keep coming, all my customers? What do they see in this old place that brings them back time and again? Why does the new generation see the same things to keep them coming back, as the old did, and still does? It's not as if we lack consoles and internet games in Wilberforce._

Mr. Litwak kept watching as the day went on. He helped where he was needed, but mostly, he watched. He observed the laughter, the frustration, the fun. When the time came to close, he waved goodbye to all of the customers and personally saw them out of the door. He said goodbye to all of his workers, being, as usual, the last one to leave the arcade. He strode by the games once more, eyeing them carefully as he passes. He came to his old favorite, _Pong_, last of all.

"Hello old friend," he said. "Still bringing joy to others after nearly thirty-seven years? Good, very good." He patted the side of the arcade cabinet, and then kept walking.

At the doorway, he paused briefly.

_They enjoyed themselves today. They always do. But will they keep enjoying themselves? Will they keep coming back?_

As Mr. Litwak exited the building and locked the doors behind him. He knew full well he had no answer, but still the question arose in his mind, like a ghostly specter of the future.

_How long can it last?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

**SANG**

When humanity invented the arcade game, it never foresaw that the characters it had created would develop lives and personalities of their own. So it also proved with the world of console gaming and the internet. From the earliest flash games, to the RPGs of Japan, to the game apps that had been developed for cell phones, the characters evolved along similar lines.

The characters on the web had soon learned the perks of there being multiple versions of their games on different websites. It meant that if ever they left one, they were technically still in their game, just not in the copy on the website they had exited. The game would stop working on the website they had left, but would still be working elsewhere- and they could only leave one copy of their game at a time. It was as if the other copies of the game contained no duplicates of themselves, but rather pieces of their essence fulfilling the basic functions of full characters. None of them were quite sure how such a thing was possible, but they never complained. For with their strange ability came the opportunity to gain knowledge, and to cross vast distances through the internet at great speed in order to communicate, without the difficulty of being confused with other versions of themselves. They took advantage of this new discovery to browse the web, gaining the knowledge of humanity. And they learned.

They learned many things, from the history of the world, to the ins and outs of fixing baby carriages. They learned things they would rather not have known in the first place. They learned contradictory factoids, and were not always sure which were true and which were not.

But most interesting to them was that they were not alone. The history of gaming was the crown jewel of their discoveries. They learned to pass through the wires, hitch rides on flash drives to laptops, and reach the world of console gaming. They spread the word of the outside world to these consoles.

And then there was the arcade world. The internet characters knew of it, of course, and their reactions were varied. Some thought nothing of it. Some, curious, paid brief visits to some of the remaining arcades. And some hated the very idea of them.

Portia was part of the last group. A character from a console game released in 2000, she had resided within her cartridge which a family in Wilberforce, Kansas, had purchased on opening night and which, eleven years later, had been played almost to the point of breaking down. One night, when the cartridge had been left in the console, and the console left plugged in, she had received a visit from the monarch of _Black Knight_, who told her tales of the internet. Her game was near to breaking, she knew- so Portia absconded with the monarch through the wires and onto the World Wide Web.

Greedily did she devour the knowledge she found. But it was the arcades that drew her attention- Mr. Litwak's in particular. Why, she wondered, did it survive? It was a disgrace to progress, an obsolete environment in an age of technological advancement. She watched and she watched, and yet still, Mr. Litwak's arcade remained.

"It has to die soon," she told herself. "It must."

But it did not. It flourished. More and more frustrated she grew until finally, she called a meeting of SANG.

The Society for the Advancement of New Games -or SANG, as it was more commonly called- was an organization of internet game characters and displaced console characters that existed to promote the latest developments in gaming among those it's members interacted with. Devotees of innovation, they despised the old as much as they loved the new. For the console characters among them, it was a chance to grow beyond their limits. For members who were internet game characters, it was a chance to shower the benefits of progress upon those who would otherwise be left behind.

Portia had joined SANG not long after her arrival on the web, and had risen through the ranks. Now, she was the organization's president.

The day on which the meeting was held was August 25th, and it was held within a long abandoned blog, last updated years back but still up on the web. They had set up a long table within the "About Me" section, with chairs all around it. At the head of the table sat Portia, and everyone at the table gave her their full, undivided attention. What is more, not one of them laughed at her appearance.

Portia was a child.

From her purple and scarlet suit to her black boots and kepi, Portia's fashion sense was rather gaudy. In her game, she had been the slightly eccentric eleven year old prodigy who knew the terrible truths, and whom nobody listened to until it was too late. They had always appreciated her in her game, but not everyone on the internet had done so; when she first arrived on the web, she had been accused by another character of being a Mary Sue. She'd almost been tempted to telekinetically throttle the character in question, but curiosity had gotten the better of her and she'd researched the term. She'd then thought better of telekinetically throttling the character- she did, after all, match many parts of the term's definition- and had instead let him off with a savage pummeling. Besides, she didn't want any Darth Vader jokes coming her way. Star Wars-related gags were prevalent enough on the internet as it was.

She needn't have worried. The condition the character she had pummeled was in for several weeks had taught the denizens of the web to fear her. And her views had soon gained her the respect she craved among the members of SANG.

Portia rose and surveyed the assembled members of SANG. The entire leadership was here, awaiting her word, her command, which pleased her to no end.

"Friends," she said, "we've completed the roll call. This meeting is now in session.'

'First order of business: the problem."

"Litwak's Arcade?" It was a black-garbed ninja on her right who had made the observation.

"Very good," said Portia. Her expression darkened. "_Why_ is it still running?"

"A disgrace," said a snowman sitting further down the table. "We've been watching it ever since the organization was formed, but we've never attempted an assault against it."

"We were busy with the propaganda effort," an armored soldier added.

"With the facts Bruce, with the facts," said Portia. "Those are the facts you are spreading, nothing more, and nothing less.'

'But we've shut down arcades before," Portia continued. "So tell me, all of you, why no attempt was made to shut down Litwak's? I find I can't remember at the moment."

"We can't get in, for one thing," said the snowman.

"And why is that, Frosty?"

"Well," said Frosty, "they've got the most vigilant Surge Protector we've seen yet. Nothing gets past his eye."

"Have you tried to bribe him?" Portia asked.

"Wouldn't work," said Bruce. "Too dedicated, this one. We'd have shut him down a while ago, but…" his voice trailed off.

"But _what_?" Portia said, her voice dripping with impatience.

"He's been adapting all these years," said Bruce. "Been developing something of a heart. It's not just a job for this one- no, he actually cares."

"But you've been doing something?" said Portia. "Tell me you've been doing something."

"We haven't gotten in," said Frosty, "but we've been making inquiries -discreetly, of course- and we think we've finally found someone who'd be willing to try."

"Of course, it'd be a foolhardy," said Bruce. "One does not simply walk into Litwak's Arcade. But we think this guy would have a chance."

"Is this character devoted to the cause?"

"I wouldn't put it that way," said Bruce. "He's more of a thrill seeker than anything."

"Thrills?"

"Of the kind involving the causing of pain and misery. He could shut down the whole arcade, game by game."

"An irredeemable villain," said Portia. "Oh those developers, stripping the nuance from characterization." She smiled. "When can I meet this character?"

"He says he'll be willing to see you tomorrow night," said Bruce. "Only you'll have to go alone. Frankly, I'm still not sure whether to trust him with one of us alone, but-"

Portia held up her hand, cutting the soldier off.

"It's alright Bruce," she said. "I think I know how to handle myself." She stood up once more, looking at each of her associates in turn.

"You elected me president of SANG three months ago, in the hope that I would improve the fortunes of this organization still further," she said. "Friends, with your help, I'll do it. One way or another, we'll be sending Litwak's Arcade the way of the dodo."

Everyone in the room clapped at these words.

"Very good," said Portia. "I like your style, I always have. Now, let's get the smaller stuff out of the way."

* * *

The remaining discussion was completed rather quickly, and the leadership of SANG retired for the afternoon: the internet characters to go back to their games, and the handful of displaced console characters to retreat into the most impenetrable parts of the web where they had made their abode. Portia, being from a console cartridge, went with the latter group. On the way, she spotted an article out of the corner of her eye.

"The Art of the Arcade?" she said, eying the title. Curious, she read the report announcing the upcoming exhibit.

_That thing Frosty mentioned near the end of the meeting _she mused. _He's right- we'll have to keep an eye on this. It could increase that blasted arcade's popularity if we fail._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

**Mr. Ainsworth**

Mr. Jacoby Ainsworth was another console character who had absconded to the internet. In his own game, he'd been a mercenary and assassin for hire, with a reputation for cold, calculating efficiency in everything he did- that and an enjoyment of his targets' emotional and physical pain. He could also hack code, which is what had drawn SANG's attention towards him.

Mr. Ainsworth lived within one of the most obscure webpages of all, from the earliest days of the internet. To reach it, characters had to travel through the Wayback Machine. This, Portia did on the night of August 27th.

The page he was within appeared to her as a yellow room containing a small round table, three wooden chairs, a bed, and a shelf. Along the walls, floor, and ceiling could be seen the coding of the website. One of the code strings was not like the others- it was Mr. Ainsworth's, which had appeared when he had programmed himself into the webpage. Portia recognized it at once, for she had done the same thing herself in the webpage where she lived. It was a mutually understood matter among the displaced console characters on the web that none of them would ever try to destroy any of the others' code. Not that they always counted on such promises being kept. Portia had booby-trapped the route to her own code, and she had little doubt that Mr. Ainsworth had done the same.

As for Mr. Ainsworth himself, one glance sufficed for Portia to tell he was from a western game. He wore a grey woolen poncho over drab brown clothing. His hat and boots were dark grey and in his belt were a bowie knife and a pair of pistols. He was reclining in one of the chairs when she entered, and he didn't stand up when she came to a stop before him.

"Well," said Mr. Ainsworth, "I reckon you'll be Portia."

"I am," said Portia, choosing to ignore his poor manners. "You doubtless know why I'm here."

"I do," said Mr. Ainsworth. "I'm the one that called you here."

"That's true enough," said Portia. "Now, if I may offer a proposition?"

"You may," said Mr. Ainsworth.

"You've heard of Litwak's Arcade?"

"I've been hearing all about for the past week, hon," said Mr. Ainsworth. "Just cut to the chase- you want me to shut down the arcade?"

"Actually, I talked it over with the council," said Portia. "We decided we're going to test their mettle first. We're going to shut down one of their games -any game will do- and see how they react."

"So I'd just be shutting down one game?"

"As a start," said Portia. "Consider it an experiment. I want to see what we can get away with before any full scale invasion is launched."

"You mean you want me to test their defenses?"

"Basically. This first time, we need you to get in, destroy whatever game you think best, and get out without being discovered. Report back when you've finished. Let us know how they reacted, and how you managed to get in."

Mr. Ainsworth looked thoughtful for several moments.

"This is dangerous work here you're asking me to do," he said at last. "What do I get in exchange?"

"You'll have promoted the cause of video game progress."

"I'll need something better than that," said Mr. Ainsworth. "They used to give me gold and fine watches, and other such trinkets."

"You'll get to experience the thrills of the job."

"Better," said Mr. Ainsworth "But I need a little more, since you don't seem to have any cash or trinkets."

"In our service, you'll cause pain."

A grin spread slowly over Mr. Ainsworth's features.

"Now you're talking," he said. "You and your friends picked their man well."

He gave a small laugh.

"Those asinine developers made me flat as pancake so they could have psycho in their story. I reckon they figured it made the game 'mature' or something. I had to develop a bit of self-control for when I'm not on a job. Course, when I _am_ on the job… well, then it's time to answer the programming's call."

"So," said Portia, "we can count on your services?"

"When do I start, hon?"

"As soon as you are able," said Portia.

"I reckon that'll be tomorrow evening," said Mr. Ainsworth. "I figure my blood'll be up by then, and I can start this work good and proper."

"If I could meet you here again tomorrow afternoon," said Portia, "just in case you have any last questions or anything-"

"That's okay," said Mr. Ainsworth, raising a hand to cut her off. "I think I can take it from here."

"I was going to give you a rundown on the Surge Protector you'll be dealing with as well," said Portia, sounding somewhat exasperated at being interrupted.

"Well pardon me, hon," said Mr. Ainsworth. "I didn't know that. Sure, I'll meet you here again at-" He glanced at a clock on the shelf.

"Make it three o'clock," he said.

"I'll be here," said Portia, her irritation at Mr. Ainsworth's excessive informality reflecting clearly in her tone. "See that you are."

"You obviously don't know me too well yet," said Mr. Ainsworth, "or I wouldn't let your attitude pass."

"And I need your help," said Portia, "or I wouldn't tolerate your lack of respect."

"Where I come from, respect is earned," said Mr. Ainsworth. "But we'll drop all that right now. There's no need for us to quarrel."

"Alright," said Portia, her voice calmer. "I'll be back here tomorrow evening with the files on the Surge Protector."

"And I'll be waiting for you, sure as my name's Jacoby Ainsworth."

Mr. Ainsworth held out his hand. "Seal the deal?"

Portia took his hand and shook it.

"Right," said Mr. Ainsworth. "I'll see you tomorrow."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

**Otis and Floyd**

When dramatic events happen, they can unleash further events, which cause yet further events, until those who had nothing to do with the original events either benefit or suffer indirectly as a result of them. For Otis and Floyd, the downfall of Turbo had been just such an event. For with the undoing of the villain's plan came Vanellope's ability to leave her own game, and with that ability came her decision, at the urging of the Surge Protector, to visit _Pong_.

They remembered that February night well, for they counted it as a turning point in their fortunes. Not that they were ever unpopular with the players; the mere fact that their venerable cabinet still functioned would have ensured that, even if _Pong_ hadn't been repeatedly recommended by the enthusiastic Mr. Litwak. What they had lacked was recognition from their fellow characters. Whether through indifference or jealousy -they never learned which- they had been generally ignored by their peers since 1993 until Vanellope came. What had started as a quarrel had soon blossomed into genuine friendship. And if the latest celebrity is your friend, one gains attention. Friendship with Vanellope meant an influx of visitors from such games as _Sugar Rush_ and _Presidential Combat_, among others; the racer was so ecstatic about _Pong_ that she wound up recommended it to all of her friends. For a few months after their meeting, _Pong_ was regularly visited by many other characters, and even when their visits began to be infrequent again, Otis and Floyd still fell into regular conversation at _Tapper's_, and within Game Central Station.

But Vanellope always came back to _Pong_. Between Floyd's snarky banter and Otis's calm, collected personality, their presence almost always provided her with enjoyment. And she found their game fun to boot. So it was no surprise for the two paddles that Vanellope would come visiting them again.

"Ah hah!" Floyd cried when he saw her. "It's the lousiest Ping Pong player in the arcade. Back to lose against me again?"

Vanellope gave an embarrassed smile. If there was one skill she had never mastered, it was beating Floyd at Ping Pong.

"Not really…no," she said. "Just to talk."

"Oh, serious stuff, right?" said Floyd. "Then it'll be Otis you want." He turned slightly. "Hey Otis, get over here. Vanellope needs to talk about grim darkness and kicking puppies!"

"No I don't!" said Vanellope, a horrified look on her face. "Who'd want to kick a puppy?"

"Ah, forget I said that," said Floyd as Otis came floating into view. "I'm not liking the mental images that result."

"What was that about kicking puppies?" said Otis, his ethereal voice echoing about the game.

_Well,_ Vanellope thought, _they _usually _are fun to be around._

"Drop it, Otis," said Floyd. "There's a kid in the house."

"But look, she's mature enough to discuss-"

"Otis," said Floyd. "Shut it."

"Oh, alright," said Otis. "But honestly, I do like dogs. So if anybody's been…"

A glare from Vanellope caused Otis's voice to trail off.

"Sorry," he said in a small voice.

"Well," said Floyd, "now that _that's_ done, what can we do for you, kid?"

"Nothing much," said Vanellope. "I just dropped in to say hello."

"Hello," Otis and Floyd said simultaneously.

"Good," said Floyd, his tone playful. "You can go now, bye!"

"But I just got here?" Vanellope replied, going along with the joke.

"Exit's that way, kid," said Floyd, pointing with his handle towards the opening to the wire.

Silence descended for several moments.

"Well," said Otis, breaking the silence. "This is awkward."

"Most pointless conversation we've ever had," Floyd agreed.

"So…" said Otis, "how was the trip to the beach? Sorry Floyd and I couldn't make it."

"Uhhhh," said Vanellope, "it was…so-so."

"Oh?" said Floyd. "Pity. I hear the _Lifeguard_ sharks are a friendly bunch. Haven't made it down there myself yet, but I will."

"The sharks were fin," said Vanellope.

"You mean 'fine?'" Otis asked.

"Yeah, _fine_," Vanellope said, correcting herself.

"Fin," said Floyd, chuckling. "Nice slipup there, kid."

Silence descended once more.

"Yeah well…enough of me," said Vanellope, smiling once more. "How've you guts been?"

"What's wrong with you tonight?" said Otis. "You said 'guts' instead of 'guys'".

"I've got things on my…oh never mind," said Vanellope.

"Stuff on your mind kid?" Floyd asked. "You know you can talk to us."

"I…don't want to talk about it right now," said Vanellope. "Sorry."

"Suit yourself," said Floyd. "But if you change your mind, we're here for you."

"Thanks," said Vanellope, smiling slightly.

"Anyway, to answer your question," said Otis, "we've not really been doing anything much. Just lamenting the fact that we can't drink root beer."

"That and wondering how we can talk when we don't have any faces," Floyd added. "I've never understood that."

"Have you ever had nightmares?" Vanellope blurted out.

"Nightmares?" said Floyd. "We're Ping Pong paddles. We don't sleep, we don't dream."

"I've been-" Vanellope began, and then stopped.

"So, you want to talk after all?" Floyd asked. "Or do you just want to get away from it all? 'Cause like I said, we're here for you."

Vanellope looked like she was about to speak for a few moments. Then she shook her head.

"I think I'll just lose at Ping Pong again," she said.

"Sure thing, pal," said Floyd. "Otis, bring out the supplies."

* * *

Later, when Vanellope had gone, Floyd turned to Otis.

"Nightmares," he said. "I had them explained to me once. Nasty things, or so I'm told."

"I was told too," said Otis. "But what about? Cybugs under the bed?"

"Dr. Despair?"

"He's not shown himself much of late," said Otis.

"The jerk's got no reason to, yet, that's all," said Floyd. He sighed. "If I'd only known at the time what he was doing, I'd have made him howl from here to the Whack-A-Mole."

"You would have had a hard time of it, given how crafty he was," said Otis. "But really Floyd, we've no idea what her nightmares are about unless she chooses to tell us."

"I guess you're right," said Floyd. "But maybe we'd better keep an eye on her."

"We don't have eyes, Floyd."

"So how do we see?"

"Keep trying to figure it out and you'll just make your mind hurt," said Otis.

"Anyway," said Floyd, "you know what I meant."

"I do," said Otis. "I do."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

**The Dastardly Deeds of Mr. Ainsworth**

Mr. Ainsworth perused the files that had been placed on the table before him one final time. He looked up at Portia.

"Let me run through this one more time," he said. "Mr. Litwak's Surge Protector, alias Old Surge. He's got a strong sense of duty, is virtually incorruptible, loves his work, and cares deeply about every character in his care."

"That's him," said Portia. "So tell me: how're you going to get past him?"

"Well," said Mr. Ainsworth, "I've a little…device I've picked up that I think will do the trick. If it works, you'll be sure to hear about it, once I'm back."

"You really should tell me now," said Portia.

"Look hon, do you want my services or not?"

"Of course I want them, but-"

Mr. Ainsworth held up a hand, cutting her off.

"Then you let me do my job my own way," he said. "I reckon the results will please you."

He watched as Portia gritted her teeth in fury. She kept silent, however, instead giving a curt nod.

"Right then," said Mr. Ainsworth. "I suppose I'll be off. I'll report back when I have results."

"And I'll await them eagerly," said Portia. "Good luck. And remember- don't kill the game's characters. I want to see how they react to being homeless."

"Got it," said Mr. Ainsworth.

* * *

Mr. Ainsworth crept through the power lines of Wilberforce, Kansas, smiling as he pictured the suffering that would result from a game getting unplugged. He shook his head at his clichéd vileness.

_What they were thinking when the developed me…_

He reached a wire leading down into the ground. Taking it, he followed its course until he came to an electrical opening.

_The path to Litwak's Arcade. Nobody's ever gotten past the Surge Protector before, they say? _

He retrieved a small device from a satchel at his side. Setting it against the wall of the wire, he turned a set of knobs in a particular combination. A series of electrical pulses shot into the wire, through the outlet, and down into the power strip. He paused, listening. Within moments, the sounds of confused talking reached his ears.

_Old Surge'll be occupied containing that for at least fifteen minutes_, Mr. Ainsworth thought to himself as he placed the device back in his satchel. _Enough time for me to get into a game, and way longer than anything similar my clients could ever do. Thank the console developers for their ridiculously powerful sci-fi weapons._

Slipping through the outlet, Mr. Ainsworth hurried through the short stretch of wire beyond into the power strip. The interior was darkened. The Surge Protector was off to one side, attempting to reassure several panicking characters that everything would be fine, and that the power would be back very soon.

Smirking, Mr. Ainsworth crept along the edge of the wall, using the dim lighting as a cloak, until he reached a wire opening above which was a sign that read **Pong**. Mr. Ainsworth's smirk widened into a grin.

_Exactly the game I had in mind- Mr. Litwak's favorite, if my research is accurate. And-_

He paused, flattening himself further against the wall, as a young girl strode into view. She sported a blue-green hoodie, unmatched striped leggings, black shoes, and a skirt that resembled the wrapping of a Reese's peanut butter cup. The girl was gazing at the wire entrance with a concerned look. Mr. Ainsworth searched his memory, retrieving the name he'd discovered on the internet.

_Vanellope von Schweetz, Princess of _Sugar Rush, _and expert racer_, _debuted 1997._ _And apparently, she loves _Pong_?_

A small, clean shaven man in dark pants, brown gloves and boots, and a blue shirt and cap arrived beside her.

_Fix-It-Felix Jr._ _All around handyman, with a hammer that's the construction equivalent of a Midas touch, debuted 1982._

"They'll be okay, Vanellope," Felix said. "As soon as the power's back on and it's safe again, you can go check on them."

"I know," said Vanellope. "It's just…I'm worried, and I don't know why."

Mr. Ainsworth grinned again. _By thunder, you _should_ be worried, little lady_.

"Come with me," said Felix. "We can wait at the table over there."

Vanellope nodded quietly and followed Felix towards the aforementioned table. While their backs were to the wire opening, Mr. Ainsworth slipped into it.

_Blessed darkness, hiding my form. Mr. Fix-It, you might not want to risk a trip through the wires, but I will._

He reached the end of the wire and peered out onto the field. All was pitch black, save for the white net, the two paddles holding a whispered conversation to one side…and the grey door knob that led to the code room.

Watching to make sure that the paddles were not looking, Mr. Ainsworth slipped quietly towards the door. He made it inside not a moment too soon, for the power came back as soon as he'd closed the door behind him. Pressing his ear to the door, he listened for any signs of discovery. To his relief, no one was heading for the door or talking about it.

A smirk on his face, Mr. Ainsworth headed down a set of steps into the square room. Boxes and wires of code crisscrossed it at seemingly random angles. He glanced around until he spotted a box labeled **Screen**. Arriving beside this, Mr. Ainsworth selected a tool from his satchel and set about his work. Minutes later, he was done.

_There. Now, all I need to do his wait by that door upstairs until morning. The players will come in, somebody will turn on _Pong -_they always do- and then, when the screen fails to work, Litwak'll slap on the orange paper. I can then make my observations, shut down the power again, and get out. Simple, really._

He climbed back up the stairs until he arrived beside the door once more. Leaning back against the wall, he checked his pocketwatch.

_Got a way's yet to go before morning. And the waiting's the hard part. But no fear, Jacoby, it's all worth it in the end._

Yet again, he shook his head at his own thoughts.

_ Why'd they have to make me so cruel? I could have been three-dimensional. _

His fingers strayed to the handle of his Bowie Knife.

_No mercy, Jacoby Ainsworth, no mercy. That's your motto, and don't you forget it. _

He frowned.

_If only that kid hadn't wanted to test the mettle of the characters' whose game'll get unplugged, I'd have made sure they wouldn't have escaped. Glitches die in their own games after all. Oh well, maybe I can kill those paddles later. I can always hope._


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

**_Pong _****Plays Out**

When Mr. Litwak arrived in the morning, he saw the blue lights once again.

There they were, the same little blue flashes darting through the wire from _Tapper's_ into the power strip. This time, upon leaving the power strip, they passed into _Dance Dance Revolution_.

_Must be the drunks heading home, back to their game_.

It was the facetious explanation he'd finally concocted to explain the odd phenomenon. Obviously, there was some more rational explanation. Nevertheless, Mr. Litwak found the notion of the characters being alive hugely entertaining.

_I could probably come up with some daft old stories about them. Imagine Zangief going shopping… _

On the way to his office, he gave the _Pong_ cabinet an affectionate pat, as he had done so many times before. Once inside, he checked his emails. And then he settled down to await the employees. When they came, he awaited the customers. And when the customers came, he opened the doors.

As usual for a school morning, the initial crowd was small, and was comprised mainly of adults, with the occasional child who was too young for school but had to stay in the care of their parents or guardians. Mr. Litwak greeted them at the door, as per his usual custom, and then settled behind the front desk.

He wasn't sure how long it had been when he heard a customer calling his name. He had grown so used to the sound of chattering customers and games being played over the years that any request for assistance was like a car horn jolting him awake in the middle of the night. Instantly alert, Mr. Litwak looked about until he saw a middle-aged gentleman standing by a familiar cabinet.

_Pong_.

For the first time in his life, Mr. Litwak hesitated to answer a customer's call for help.

_What if…what if…_

"Mr. Litwak?" the gentleman called once more.

Mr. Litwak gulped.

"Coming," he said, getting up from behind the desk. He strode towards the customer.

"The screen's not turning on," said the customer, gesturing towards the cabinet.

Mr. Litwak tested the controls, and glanced at the screen several times. It remained completely black. He inserted one of his own quarters and tired again. Another quarter passed from his wallet into the slot, and then another. Each time, the screen failed to turn on.

"Mr. Litwak?" the customer asked. "Is everything alright?"

"Busted," said Mr. Litwak. His voice was strained; he didn't turn.

"Mr. Litwak?"

Mr. Litwak took a quarter from his wallet and handed it to the customer.

"Here, take that," he said. "I'll check with the repair man in the morning, but _Pong'_s probably played out."

The customer thanked Mr. Litwak and headed off to another game. Slowly, Mr. Litwak walked back to the desk and retrieved an orange "out of order" sheet from one of the drawers. He walked back towards _Pong_. Once in front of the cabinet, he paused. Then, with a sigh, he placed the paper over the screen.

* * *

The rest of the day passed before Mr. Litwak's eyes as though it were a blur. By the time the arcade was closed, he was aware only in a general sense that he'd kept to his routine, greeting each wave of customers and saying farewell to customers and workers alike. But his pleasant tone had been forced. The many looks of concern he'd received attested to that.

_It's just a game_, he told himself. _It's just a game._

But it wasn't- not this game. It was the one he'd started his business with, a reminder of that joyous adventure of his younger days, a memento of the past. And it was a reminder of a friendship.

_Albert Rae. Where are you now, I wonder? I really should try and find out._

On his way out, he passed by _Pong_ once again. He stopped, looking the cabinet up and down once more. Hepeeled back the corner of the orange paper and glanced at the blank screen.

"Otis, Floyd," he said. "It's been great having you around."

Mr. Litwak patted the cabinet one last time and passed through the arcade doors.

* * *

Inside the cabinet, three beings had heard his words. One, behind a black door with a grey knob, smirked callously. The other two, on the field beside the net, floated silently in place, letting the words sink in. They had no faces, but they saw; no ears, but they heard. They knew their home was doomed, but for those few moments, as they watched Mr. Litwak and listened to his words, their alarm receded. For those precious moments, it was replaced by something else: pride. Not the stubborn, conceited pride that is unearned, but pride merited through long years of hard toil and genuine accomplishment. For nearly thirty seven years, they had brought happiness to many. But of all those many, the old arcade owner was the one they were most delighted to have pleased. Mingled with their pride was one more feeling: gratitude. Gratitude to Mr. Litwak for the care he had lavished upon their cabinet through the long, repetitive years. Gratitude for the enthusiasm he had shown for their humble game.

Mr. Litwak's face receded from view; the moment passed. And then concern for their present situation rushed back upon Otis and Floyd. Nevertheless, obscured though it was by pressing matters, the twin feelings of pride and gratitude remained buried within their coding, where they would forever remain for the two paddles to cherish- no matter what the future brought.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

**Kindness and Malice**

When the arcade had been closed for at least fifteen minutes, Floyd finally broke the silence.

"I must say, you're taking this awfully well, Otis," he said.

"So are you, Floyd," was the reply. "I figured you'd be panicking about now."

"Twenty years ago, maybe," said Floyd. "But not now. I know we can get by."

"We'll be homeless in the morning," said Otis. "What did you have in mind?"

"Oh, the usual- set up a panhandling sign, maybe dance a jig for a few quarters."

"We haven't got legs," said Otis.

"Alright fine, than we tell stories of bygone days to the newer characters."

Otis sighed. "If only we could drink root beer."

"You want to drown your sorrows, huh?"

"It's the expected thing to do, isn't it?"

Floyd laughed. "I swear Otis, you're getting as loony as I am- ah, sweet scoreboard, it's Vanellope!"

The racer hurried forward, her face full of concern.

"What happened?" she cried as she came to a stop. "Everyone's talking, saying you're getting unplugged."

"Ah, it's nothing," said Floyd. "You just interrupted a great joke session is all."

"Floyd's going to learn to dance," Otis added.

"You're lying," said Vanellope.

"No we're not," said Floyd. "We're just…okay fine, we're lying. Our screen's shot."

"Bullets?" said Vanellope, frowning.

"My dear literalist," said Otis, "it's busted. Won't turn on."

"But that means…" Vanellope's voice trailed off.

"Yeah kid, we're getting unplugged," said Floyd. "But don't worry: we've already got ourselves a new property. Finest corner of Game Central Station a hobo could ask for."

"But…you don't have to live in a corner," said Vanellope. "Why don't you come live with me?"

"Ah, you wouldn't want us around," said Floyd.

"We're too insane," said Otis, in a sagacious tone. "And besides, we were kind of looking forward to making our panhandling sign."

"I've got some special glitter for it," said Floyd. "It'll make lovely sparkles."

"I don't believe you," said Vanellope. "You don't want to be homeless."

"It beats dying in here," said Floyd.

"No," said Vanellope, smiling. "You're going to live in my castle. I insist."

"But really," said Otis, "we'd hate to impose-"

"You're not imposing, okay?" said Vanellope. "I _want_ you to come." She turned and ran towards the wire opening. "Come on, I'll show you guys your rooms!"

"But we just closed the deal on the property," Floyd protested. "We can't- ah, she's out of earshot."

"Joke's over Floyd," said Otis. "She's serious."

"Well, I still hate to impose-"

Vanellope leaned back out of the wire opening.

"You guys coming?" she asked.

"Very well," said Otis. He and Floyd floated after Vanellope.

* * *

Behind the door to the code chamber, Mr. Ainsworth had heard all. He frowned, his good humor gone.

_They took it well? How could they take it well? What went wrong?_

He gritted his teeth.

_A new home? Kindness? Generosity? Infuriating! Where's the panic, the rage, the frustration? My fee has yet to be paid. May lightning strike that brat for not letting me kill those paddles!_

He reached for the door knob. Then, abruptly, he stopped. A new thought had occurred to him.

_There's a bit of silver lining here- Otis and Floyd's little lady and their new home. And I'm the only one who knows how to break into Litwak's Arcade…_

Mr. Ainsworth's smirk returned.

_I guess they'll just be tougher nuts to crack, these paddles. I'll have to hit them somewhere closer to their hearts- I know just where. And since SANG'll need my expertise to get in here again…well Portia, I think I know how my fee'll be paid, and you'll just have to accept it._

Mr. Ainsworth passed through the door and onto the empty playing field, his good humor completely restored. Closing the door behind him, he slipped into the wire. Once more, he drew the powerful device from his satchel and placed it against the wall of the wire. Once more, the electrical bursts passed through the wire wall and into the power strip, temporarily knocking out the power.

He slipped through the wire opening into Game Central Station. Sliding along the wall, he made for the wire that would take him out of the arcade. On the way, he passed Otis and Floyd, with Vanellope beside them. He paused briefly to hear what they were saying.

"The same thing that happened last night," Otis was saying. "You don't suppose…?"

"Not out loud," said Floyd. "We don't want to start a panic."

"Huh?" said Vanellope looking up. "You mean what it might have done to-"

"Quiet," said Otis.

Mr. Ainsworth continued on his way, silently thanking the darkness for hiding him once again. He slipped into the wire just before the power came back on. Then, with a smile of anticipation, he set off on his journey back to the internet.

* * *

"Pink?" said Floyd, gazing about the bedroom in the castle that Vanellope had just shown him into. "This won't be good for my image, kid."

"We can paint it blue, I suppose," said Vanellope, her smile fading.

"Nah, don't mind me," said Floyd, noticing her downcast look. "I appreciate this, I really do."

Vanellope's smile returned, though it wasn't as big as it had been before.

"I'm…sorry about your game," she said.

"Nearly thirty seven years," said Floyd. "It had to go sometime. Best not to worry about it. I'll miss it all the same, but I'll live. So will Otis."

"Maybe I'd better go see how he's doing," said Vanellope.

"Hey kid," said Floyd. "Nightmares still getting to you?"

Vanellope paused in the act of going through the door.

"I…I…don't-"

"Still don't want to talk about it?" said Floyd. "Alright, never mind then."

"I'd better go," said Vanellope. She passed under the door frame

"Hey Vanellope," Floyd called as she was about close the door.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks again…friend."

"You're welcome," said Vanellope, closing the door behind her.

Floyd hovered about the room, taking in the dressers, the bed, the mirror, and the tables and chairs. It was all superfluous for a character of his minimal needs, but he didn't mind.

_Offered in good friendship. She's a sweet kid. Never told her as much- at least not in those words. _

_But- nightmares? Why won't she talk about it? Has she told anyone at all? Is she afraid?_

Floyd settled into a hover over the desk. He began to reflect on the day's events, but his mind soon turned back to Vanellope's refusal to explain her references to nightmares.

_Ostracized for fifteen years, nearly murdered several times over, bullied, tortured, and beaten- how has this kid stayed so cheerful?_

_Is she finally losing it?_


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

**Scars**

A smoky, purple haze coated the ground upon which Vanellope was standing. It thickened, enveloping her in its chilling embrace. All round her, she could hear the sound of skittering legs.

"Hello, my dear," said a voice, almost radiant with joy. "You've gone a long way, I thee. You've made new friendth, loved life, and tho on. Ah life, how I mith it."

"You're dead," said Vanellope, though her voice was shaky.

"Of courth I am!" said the jolly voice. "I'm jutht a figment of your imagination. Like the crawling thingth you hear."

As the haze cleared a little, the diminutive form of King Candy emerged in front of her.

"Whath thith?" he exclaimed. "Your memorieth- I wathn't the latht one to threaten your life?"

A chill ran down Vanellope's spine as her old enemy placed his fingers on her forehead.

"Oh yeth!" he cried. "Him! I remember him! Nice fellow, he ith."

"You know him?" Vanellope asked, almost involuntarily.

"Thure I do," said King Candy. "Nice character- but wait!" He touched her forehead again. Sudden jolts of agonizing pain coursed through her body. She squeezed her eyes shut. She tried to move her limbs, but it was as though there were heavy clamps around her wrists and ankles. The pain increased, and she could no longer hold back the tears of pain and fear.

"Just change your mind," said a new voice, disturbingly gentle in tone. "Just give up your visions of democracy, and the pain will stop."

"No!" Vanellope shrieked. She opened her eyes to see she was hanging upon a torture rack. Below her, there stood the black-garbed form of Dr. Despair. The villain's red eyes gleamed behind his expressionless silver mask.

"You make this so difficult," he said. "Just give up. You'll never escape from here. You might never even be missed."

"They'll find me," she managed to gasp out before more energy surges sent her body into further spasms.

"If they do, I hope they prove more reasonable than you," said Dr. Despair. He reached for a knob on the control panel to one side and twisted it. The energy shocks increased in intensity. Vanellope screamed.

"Well," said King Candy, withdrawing his fingers from Vanellope's forehead. "Look how he turned out. I never would have guethed."

Vanellope blinked. She was back in the purple haze, with the onetime racer still in front of her.

"Go away!" she cried. "You're…you're dead."

"Ith that all you can thay?" said King Candy, laughing. "Ath long ath I'm part of your patht, I'll alwayth be around in thom way- which meanth forever. I'm a legend Vanellope, a legend. And it's quite a Turbotathtic one, I mutht thay." He cackled and raised his hands. The fog vanished, revealing an assortment of giant candies- each with six cybug legs.

"Have thom candy, my dear," he said with another laugh.

The giant candies began skittering forward…

* * *

With a start, Vanellope sat up. She blinked several times before she realized she was sitting in bed. It was the last stretch of the night, when she took her rest before the arcade opened at eight o'clock in the morning. Slowly, her breathing returned to its normal pace. She glanced up at the clock. There were still three hours to go before the arcade opened.

Slowly, she got out of bed and strode toward the mirror. She raised her nightshirt slightly, revealing a jagged scar not far above her waist. She touched it. No pain came, but the memory of how she had gained the wound returned at once.

_The clone's gone, but it's master…_

A determined look came onto Vanellope's face. She strode over to her wardrobe and pulled out her usual outfit. When she had changed into it, she went to her bedroom door and opened it- there was no one outside. Slowly and quietly, she slipped out into the corridor. She threaded her way through the various passages, until she was out of the castle.

Making her way across the fields, Vanellope arrived at the wire entrance. She passed through it, soon arriving at Game Central Station. As usual, the Surge Protector appeared, his ledger in his hand.

"Name?" he asked.

"Vanellope von Schweetz."

The Surge Protector looked up from his ledger.

"I figured you were in bed this time of night," he said.

"I can't sleep," Vanellope replied.

"I'm sorry to hear that," said the Surge Protector. "Destination?"

"_Clash of Chaos 2_."

The Surge Protector assumed a look of what Vanellope guessed was surprise. She was right, for his next words were:

"_Clash of Chaos 2_? Are you sure that's…er…wise?"

"You heard me," Vanellope replied firmly "I said _Clash of Chaos 2_."

"As you wish," said the Surge Protector, shaking his head. "Are you carrying anything?"

"Nothing," said Vanellope.

"You should have taken an energy shield or something," the Surge Protector. "Anything to report?"

"Nope."

"Alright, you're free to go," said the Surge Protector. "Stay safe." He vanished from sight and Vanellope continued on her way.

Game Central Station was short on traffic at this time of the night. Most of the characters were within in their own games, or over at _Tapper's_ sharing pints and anecdotes. The few characters who were passing by gave her nods of recognition. But it wasn't until she reached the wire entrance to _Clash of Chaos 2_ that she began to receive any stares.

_No turning back now_ she told herself as she passed into the wire.

The carts were waiting at the end of the rack. Climbing into the nearest one, Vanellope threw its switch. In moments, it was gliding at a smooth clip down the track towards the large circular door she remembered all too well.

The cart came to a stop before the threshold. She clambered out of the cart and reached for the door handle. Then, she stopped, hesitating.

_It's _not_ too late to turn back._

And then she remembered the nightmare- the third one she'd had, and the most disturbing yet. But one part stood out among everything else. One thing King Candy had said imprinted itself firmly in her mind

_"__Him! I remember him!"_

Resolution in her eyes, she grasped the handle and opened the door.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

**A Visit to an Old Foe**

Apart from the sound of its action-tune, _Clash of Chaos 2_ was quiet; the denizens of the game were occupied indoors. Otherwise, the game looked exactly as Vanellope remembered it. The town, the pyramid, and the temple complex- it was all still there.

And so was the tower.

The massive lair of the game's villain loomed large over the landscape, the light reflecting off of the metallic portions of its surface. At the very sight of it, Vanellope shuddered. Nevertheless, she headed straight for it. As soon as she reached the threshold, she stopped once more.

_Even now, I can still turn back._

She shook the thought away and gave the gates several hard knocks. Within moments, she heard the sound of creaking as the gates opened wide to receive her. Standing in the doorway was a tall woman in explorer garb. The woman's cybernetic right eye extended outwards, observing Vanellope curiously.

"Citizen Vanellope von Schweetz?"

"Lady Claudia Hawke."

"You have a good memory," said the woman, retracting her eye. "But…what are you doing _here_?"

"I'm here to see Dr. Despair," said Vanellope, trying to sound unhesitating. One look at Lady Claudia's expression told her she'd failed.

"The doctor is in," Lady Claudia replied. "He's in the throne room. Follow me please."

Up several flights of stairs they went, and through a cylindrical passage, until they arrived in the throne room. At the far end, on the throne, there sat the familiar form of Dr. Despair. His top hat and overcoat had been laid aside, revealing his collar length black hair. His red eyes glinted as he saw Vanellope entering.

"Well, well," he said, standing up. "Look who decided to return after…four years, correct?"

He gestured for Lady Claudia to leave. When she had gone, Dr. Despair walked slowly toward Vanellope. He circled her, eyeing her carefully, watching her demeanor. It wasn't long before she flinched.

"You're still afraid of me, aren't you?"

"N-no," Vanellope stammered. She'd meant to sound confident, but instead, she sounded as nervous as she felt.

"Really?" said Dr. Despair. "Have you forgotten what I taught you already? The brave admit their fears and face them head on."

"Fine, I'm afraid," said Vanellope. "But I'm here."

"I see that," said Dr. Despair, coming to a stop in front of her. "But why? After all this time, why now?"

"Answers," Vanellope blurted out. "I need answers."

"First ask me the questions," said Dr. Despair.

Vanellope tried to speak, but the words stuck in her throat.

"Tongue-tied?" said Dr. Despair. "Perhaps I can help you by asking questions of my own. First of all, how's _Sugar Rush_?"

"It's fine," said Vanellope.

"Excellent," said Dr. Despair. "You know, I was impressed that you and your friends managed to pull things together so quickly. Why do you think I haven't been down there to your game since you recovered from your injuries?"

"My friends kept you out," said Vanellope.

"No, I _stayed_ out," said Dr. Despair. "I had no need to go in. The game is stable, secure." He gave a small laugh. "But then, you have elections coming in a few months. If things go badly, I may need to pay you another visit."

"I won't let you," said Vanellope, bristling. "I _am_ afraid of you- and that's why I'm here!"

"You're right to fear me," said Dr. Despair. "I once held your life in my hands."

His eyes narrowed and he placed the tip of his cane against Vanellope's chest, forcing her to step backwards.

"I could hold it again," he said. "Right now."

Vanellope started to glitch out of his path towards the throne, but Dr. Despair grabbed her with his mechanical arm. A burst of energy flowed from mechanical arm into her body, sending her into brief spasms. He dropped her and she landed on her back. Looking up, she saw that he'd placed the cane in his mechanical hand. His left arm, the one made of flesh, was extended towards her.

"But I won't," he said.

"Vanellope blinked, confused.

"Take my hand," said Dr. Despair.

Ignoring the proffered hand, Vanellope glitched to her feet.

"Never mind," said Dr. Despair, withdrawing his hand and placing his cane back into it. "I can't blame you. Why trust me, right?"

"I don't trust you," said Vanellope. "But I need answers."

"You've told me that already," said Dr. Despair. "I'm still awaiting your questions."

"Just one," said Vanellope. "Did you know Turbo?"

Dr. Despair gave a sudden jolt. His mechanical arm flew out once more, grasping Vanellope about the throat. Lifting her into the air, he sent another blast of energy through her frame, and then another, before dropping her again.

"No, I didn't _know_ him," he snarled. "I never _knew_ him. I did know _of _him…and yes, I met him."

Vanellope climbed to her feet, blinking back tears of pain.

"What have you heard?" Dr. Despair cried, raising a mechanical fist. "What do you know? Tell me before I kill you!"

Vanellope gazed up at him, an expression of raw fear on her features. Dr. Despair lowered his fist.

"No," he said quietly. "I can't kill you. I can't kill my bravest foe. But tell me- what do you know?"

"Nothing," said Vanellope. "He just told me he knew you, and-"

Dr. Despair cut her off with a raised hand.

"Turbo told you he knew me? Turbo's dead. How could he-" He stopped, a look of recognition in his eyes.

"Ah!" he said. "In dreams. You dreamed of Turbo, didn't you?"

Vanellope nodded.

"And what do we know about dreams? They are often a mix of memories- and things we think of. Somehow, you must have made some sort of mental connection between Turbo and I."

"Wouldn't you have taught him to hack code?" Vanellope asked.

"I can see why you might think that," said Dr. Despair. "But no, I didn't teach him. I don't know how or where he learned his hacking skills.'

'Now Vanellope," he continued, his voice closer to its typical self-assured tone. "Whatever am I to do with you? By sheer coincidence, against all reasonably expectable odds, you've unmasked a part of my private affairs that nobody else knows about. The safest thing to do would be the kill you now and be done with it. But that's not what I'm inclined to do."

"So what, then?" said Vanellope. "I still need to know."

"Why?" said Dr. Despair. "Why must you know? It doesn't affect you now. It doesn't affect anyone now."

"Yes it does," said Vanellope. "And I'll ask until you tell me."

Dr. Despair laughed, a crazed look in his eyes.

"The clichés in our meeting have been amusingly frequent," he said. "If this were a session of my game, now would be the point where I reveal the truth against all reason. Because that's just what clichéd bad guys such as I are supposed to do."

He looked down at Vanellope.

"What if I _were_ to tell you?" he said. "Could you keep a secret? I believe you could. You're a sweet little kid from a saccharine game. Kindness is your forte."

Vanellope was confused. Her question must have struck a chord deep within the villain, because he still seemed somewhat shaken and unhinged. In a tone of bafflement, she asked:

"Are you okay?"

"Vanellope," he said. "Vanellope- I'm fine."

The look of madness was gone from his eyes.

"Vanellope," he said again, "I taught you a lesson once. Will you learn another?"

"What?" said Vanellope.

"Vanellope," said Dr. Despair. "It's probably fair that I tell you what you want to know."

His tone was sad, to the point where Vanellope felt a pang of pity. And then all the resentment, all the horrific memories, returned once again. Her eyes narrowed.

"What else could you teach me, you monster?"

"Monster?" said Dr. Despair. "That's a rather strong expression."

"It's what you are," she said firmly.

"Judge me as you please," said Dr. Despair. "But only when I've finished."

"Okay," said Vanellope. "Get on with it."

"Very well…"


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Nineteen Years Ago**

In the month of March, in 1995, Mr. Litwak purchased _Clash of Chaos 2_.

His arcade had never stocked the first installment in the series, since it had failed to gain much of an audience upon its initial release. Nevertheless, the game had since built up a strong following, to the point where its developers had been willing to risk their pocketbooks on a sequel. And so, utilizing the latest advances in graphics design, they had created a new adventure for Lady Claudia Hawk. The game was a smash hit, hence Mr. Litwak's acquisition of it.

The villain of the game, Dr. Despair, proved something of a loner. It wasn't that he was unfriendly. As any character who ever conversed with him quickly found out, he was quite genial. It was just that he was intensely private. One could talk to him for hours without learning too much about what was on his mind- unless, of course, he was in the mood to share. And he usually wasn't.

But he was good listener. And with characters as gregarious as the denizens of _Street Fighter II_ in the arcade, it didn't take him long to learn the ins and outs of life at Litwak's.

Nor did it take him long to find out about Turbo.

He'd first heard about the egotistical racer during a visit to _Tapper'_s. Zangief had referenced "Going Turbo" during a heated debate with Mario. Curious, Dr. Despair had wandered over towards their table. It wasn't long before he'd steered the conversation towards the expression and had asked its meaning. Zangief had responded by telling the tale.

"So, you saw this?" Dr. Despair had asked him, when the story was over.

"No," said Zangief. "My game wasn't plugged in at the time. But you can ask Fix-It Felix Jr. He saw it all."

Dr. Despair had done so, and had come away with the same story. He retired to his game wiser than before about the phrase "Going Turbo", but equally curious whether the notorious racer still lived. Everyone else assumed he'd perished in _Road Blasters_. Turbo's attempted takeover of that game had been the first time any game had been unplugged at Litwak's, and everyone had assumed Turbo, not knowing about what happened when games were unplugged any more than anyone else, had died as a result of his ignorance. Dr. Despair wasn't so sure, however. His game was a sequel where his character had turned out not to be dead after all; he knew a thing or two about unexpected survivals.

But he never expected he'd discover the answer.

* * *

It was in the summer of 1997 that Dr. Despair found an intruder trying to access the code chamber of his game.

He'd known about the code chamber for a long while, but he seldom entered it- there had never really been need. But when he spotted a pale white form slipping towards the hallway within his tower that led to the chamber's door, he knew it was time again. So he followed the figure, until he saw it attempting to open the door.

"Good evening, Turbo," he said, his voice calm and collected.

The racer started and turned his head, revealing an ash-grey face with yellow eyes.

"Blatht!" Turbo exclaimed. "I'm too uthed to being unfound."

"Trying to hack my game?" said Dr. Despair. "I'm not sure I'm inclined to allow you to."

"Mr. Formal, are we?" said Turbo, chuckling. "You learn to talk like that in thom fancy college?"

"I'm a gentleman," said Dr. Despair. "Unlike you. I ought to expose you right now."

"And where would that get you?" Turbo asked, turning around fully.

"It would help this arcade. We've just gotten a new game, and I won't have the racers living in a world where you're still on the loose."

"Racerth?" said Turbo, a curious look on his face.

"_Sugar Rush_," said Dr. Despair, backing Turbo against the door of the code chamber. He grasped the racer with his mechanical arm and stunned him with an energy blast.

"And I'm not letting you at it. This arcade doesn't need another game-hopping disaster on its hands."

Descending the stairs to the dungeons, he deposited Turbo within a cell.

"I'll be back for you later," he said, "just as soon as I finish with some business."

But when he returned later, the cell door was open and Turbo was gone.

In his hurry to settle with the racer, he'd forgotten to check if his prisoner had been carrying any lockpicks or other escape devices.

_What a daft mistake_ he realized. Not_ one I'll be making again. I can't let my clichéd programming interfere with my intelligence after hours._

He began to walk towards the stairs, but then stopped.

_Nobody knows yet that I saw Turbo. He'll be heading for _Sugar Rush _now. If I try to find him, someone may ask questions…and I'm not going down in history as the one who let Turbo get away. But then again, it would be the right thing to do…But again…_

* * *

For days, Dr. Despair agonized, before he finally paid a visit to _Sugar Rush_. He knew the trail must have gone cold; he'd delayed for far too long. Nevertheless, he was determined to try and find out whether Turbo had invaded. But none of the game's denizens ever spoke of any strangers. They were ecstatic about their ruler, however: a tiny, balding man known as King Candy. Before leaving the game, Dr. Despair took the opportunity to be introduced to him.

The little man was a bundle of puns and energy, delightedly speaking of everything about world and answering questions with pleasure. But not once did he ever mention anything unusual. The trail had indeed gone cold

Or had it? When he had returned to his own game, Dr. Despair recalled the speech patterns of King Candy.

_His lisp_ he thought to himself. _It's more pronounced, it's true, but is it possible-?_

He cut off the rest of the thought.

_I don't want to know. If he's not there, so much the better. And if he is, at least he's found a place to belong again, where he won't cause any more problems._

Nevertheless, a voice at the back of his mind said: _If it _is_, true, than you could have prevented it by acting sooner._

"If it's true," Dr. Despair said aloud to himself. "I don't know for sure. But one thing I know- if I spot another threat, I won't ever delay that long again."

He would cherish that spoken thought, would nourish it in his mind- and he would make it his creed.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Talking with Ralph**

"So," said Dr. Despair, facing one of the large stained glass windows of the throne room, "that's it. My greatest failure. I could have saved your game- I could have saved _you_- if I'd only acted quickly and decisively."

"Thanks," said Vanellope.

Dr. Despair blinked.

"What?"

"Thanks," Vanellope repeated. "Thanks for the one nice thing you ever tried to do for me."

Dr. Despair turned about. "Vanellope von Schweetz," he said, "you apparently have an uncanny ability for missing the point when it's right in front of you. I did _nothing_."

"You took a while, but you ended up trying something…before you stopped caring."

"I _started_ caring."

"I was in your 'care'," said Vanellope. "I still have the scars."

"Insolent child!" Dr. Despair snapped. "You think this is all about you? This is about what's best for the arcade."

"Or what's best for your ego," Vanellope shot back. "You're just a selfish brat now."

Dr. Despair made as though to grab Vanellope, but then stopped.

"No," he said, his voice calm yet again. "No. You're out of his grasp now, and all is right. No hurting the arcade by your death."

He fingered the ornamented head of his cane momentarily, before continuing.

"Your game is safe now- maybe not in the way I expected, but safe nonetheless. And that's what matters."

"Yeah- safe from you."

Vanellope turned to leave, but Dr. Despair blocked her path with his cane.

"Hear me well," he said. "I make no apologies for anything, save for not hunting down Turbo when I had the chance. That apology you can take or leave as you please. But take this from my tale- when there is a threat, act."

"I'll take what I can get," Vanellope replied curtly. "Apology accepted." Pushing the cane aside, she strode towards the throne room door, never once looking back.

* * *

"Thank the developers you're safe," said the Surge Protector when he saw Vanellope. " I'll let procedure slide right now. There's someone who wants to talk to you."

The hulking form of Ralph appeared in front of Vanellope. He glanced from Vanellope to the wire entrance, and back again.

"Come on over to my game," he said. "We need to talk."

He was clearly in earnest, so Vanellope followed Ralph to his extra-large apartment building within _Fix-It Felix Jr._ Ralph offered her a seat. She glitched into it. Ralph sat across from her on a large boulder- the only object in the living room that would support his weight.

"I know what you're thinking," Vanellope began. "Why I'd go into _that _game?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Cause I knew you'd have stopped me."

"You bet I would have," Ralph said sternly. "You could have been killed."

"He doesn't want to kill me."

"Not right now, he doesn't," Ralph replied. "What we're you _thinking_?"

"I wanted to show him I wasn't afraid of him," she said.

"That was kind of a dumb idea," said Ralph. "What made you want to do that?"

And then the explanations poured forth. She explained the nightmare, the raw terror, the candy monsters- everything. When she was finished, she breathed deeply.

"Was this the first time?" Ralph asked.

Silently, Vanellope shook her head.

"When did these dreams start?"

"This was the third night in a row."

"And you didn't tell anyone? Not even me?"

"I…I didn't…I mean, it almost slipped out around Otis and Floyd, but I didn't…"

"Look." Ralph's tone was firm, but kind. "Otis and Floyd are you're friends. I'm your friend. You can talk to them. You can talk to me. Hey, you can talk to Felix too. I bet even Sergeant Calhoun would listen."

"She'd just tell me to tough up," said Vanellope. She grinned suddenly. "Tough-up, you mangy bundle of bat-wings!" she said in her best imitation of Calhoun's voice.

Ralph laughed. "Not bad."

The moment of levity passed, and both characters looked serious once again.

"Ralph," said Vanellope. "I've got something else I need to tell you."

As succinctly as she could, Vanellope told about her encounter with Dr. Despair. Ralph was intrigued by the doctor's revelation in particular.

"I guess it explains what he was thinking," he said. "Still doesn't make what he did right."

Vanellope had been looking down at the floor when a new thought entered her mind. She looked up again.

"Something else on your mind?" Ralph asked.

"You once told why you broke my kart," said Vanellope.

Ralph grimaced at the memory.

"You don't need to remind me. I was wrong to do that."

"But you didn't know that at the time. And you really thought you were helping me."

"What made you think of that now?"

"Ralph," Vanellope said slowly and hesitantly. "Dr. Despair said he tries to help the arcade. What if he's telling the truth? What if _is_ trying to help?"

"He's a twisted idea of helping the arcade, then."

"But he believes in it."

Ralph was silent for several moments.

"You may be right," he said at last. "But stay away from him in the future. He's too dangerous."

Suddenly, Vanellope yawned and blinked several times.

"We've still a couple hours before the arcade opens," said Ralph. "Go get some sleep while you can."

Vanellope nodded and glitched to her feet.

"And if you have any more nightmares, come talk to your friends," Ralph added. "We're all here for you."

As she headed for the door, Vanellope looked back over her shoulder.

"Thanks," she said.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

**The President of SANG**

As soon as Mr. Ainsworth had returned to the internet, he went to Portia's office within the abandoned blog and informed her of the results of his mission. Portia listened carefully while her secretary, a little green alien with many eyes, jotted down the details for future reference. When Mr. Ainsworth had finished, Portia looked thoughtful.

"So, the paddles adapted well to the loss of their game?"

"Shockingly well," said Mr. Ainswroth. "Sickeningly well. You should have let me kill them."

"You know why I couldn't allow that," said Portia. "But you have done well, very well. How much will it cost us to obtain one of those electrical pulse devices?"

"I've the only one of its caliber," said Mr. Ainsworth, "and I'm not giving it up."

Portia gestured to the secretary to stop writing. Facing Mr. Ainsworth, she said:

"How's this?"

"Seems to me I'm the only one as knows how to use the thing," he said, "and you need me to get in. So hon, I'm going to join your little posse and shut down this here arcade with you."

"I wouldn't object," said Portia.

"Course, I've a new fee to ask."

"Yes?"

"I hate to leave a job unfinished," said Mr. Ainsworth. "Those paddles have moved into a game called _Sugar Rush_. Let me deal with them, that game, and everyone living in it however I choose."

"Done," said Portia.

"Wow!" Mr. Ainsworth exclaimed. "You didn't even give that a second thought did you, you wicked little child."

"Firstly," said Portia, "you're one to talk about wickedness." She raised her hand into the air and bent her fingers inward. Mr. Ainsworth felt himself pulled into the air by an invisible grasp around his throat. He reflexively reached for his neck, struggling to breathe.

"Secondly, though I'm a kid, I'd suggest you watch your tongue around me. I was programmed as a telekinetic prodigy, mind you."

She lowered her hand, dropping Mr. Ainsworth to the ground. The mercenary climbed to his feet, rubbing his neck gently and breathing heavily.

"And lastly," said Portia, "_Don't_ make any Darth Vader jokes."

"Got it, hon," said Mr. Ainsworth, grinning.

"And one more thing I forgot," said Portia. "Stop calling me 'hon'".

"As you wish, little lady," said Mr. Ainsworth, grinning once more. "I take it we've got a bargain then?"

"We have," said Portia. "_Sugar Rush_ is yours, and everyone in it, as well as those paddles."

"It's a pleasure doing business with you," said Mr. Ainsworth, backing towards the door of the office, "I trust you won't regret it yourself."

"You've lived up to your reputation so far," said Portia. "I hope that continues."

Mr. Ainsworth tipped his hat and left the office. Moments later, at another gesture from Portia, the secretary packed away the notes from the conference that he had just taken and exited through another door.

* * *

When she was alone, Portia's hand began to gravitate towards her own throat. Reaching into her tunic, she tugged at the end of a cord that hung about her neck. The end slid out of her shirt, and she looked long and hard at the carved wooden emblem on the end of it.

The symbol of her family.

_Family- yes, I had one in my game. A father and a mother. Died in the cutscenes partway in. And an older brother who was the hero._

She knew those cutscenes well, and the dialogue from one came back to her mind instantly.

"Be proud of who you are now, my daughter," her father would say in one of the most blandly written scenes of parental affection in the history of video games. "You are perfect the way you are."

Portia shook her head.

_Stupidly written, but I had to believe it in the game- after a while. First came the angst. Because, as we all know, true art is angsty. Thank you TV Tropes._

_But really, what antiquated notions! Of course, it was an antiquated game. But the characters could have escaped it with me. None of them would. Too suspicious of this new world. Idiots. They should have known it was time to improve who we were, to adapt to the future. _

_Ah, if only they could have seen the wonders I've seen, done the things I've done. Traveling through the Wayback Machine, improving my diction with the likes of Joseph Ducreux…_

Portia slid the carving back into her tunic. She would continue to keep it there, a reminder of where she had come from, and how far she had evolved. In the meantime, it was time to summon another meeting of SANG. Time to plan the ultimate demise of Litwak's Arcade.

She flipped a switch on the desk, activating an intercom built into its frame.

"This is the President of SANG," she said. "Assemble the council."

She switched the intercom off and then rang a small bell. The multi-eyed alien secretary raced back into the office.

"Carl, the paperwork," said Portia. "There's going to be a meeting."

"Right away, Madame President!" The secretary hurried back out of the room and then returned with a bundle of papers which he set on the desk. Dismissing the secretary, Portia picked up the bundle and tucked it under her arm. Then, with a smile of satisfaction, she headed for the door, and then to the elevator that would take her to the "About Me" section of the blog.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

**Collapse**

As he had planned, Mr. Litwak went to see _The Art of the Arcade_ on opening day. It proved as expansive and comprehensive and exhibit as any arcade lover could have hoped for. From the pre-recorded video interviews, to the concept art, to the games on display, it was a sheer delight. Adding to Mr. Litwak's pleasure was the large number of visitors, both young and old. As always, he found their enthusiasm infectious; before long, he was grinning like a child.

His grin faded when he passed by the exhibit's copy of _Pong_, and he felt a sudden pang of melancholy. A sad smile crossed his face as he gazed at the cabinet.

He lingered long around the exhibit, until six o'clock, when the museum closed for the day. By that time, he had wandered back to the _Pong _cabinet and was observing it silently.

"Sir?" said a voice behind him. "The museum is closed now. I need to ask you to le-"

The man cut off his own speech abruptly as Mr. Litwak turned.

"Stan? Stan Litwak?"

"That's my name."

The man held out his hand.

"Job Olsen," he said. "The head of the museum as of six months ago."

"We've glimpsed each other before," said Mr. Litwak. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Well, I guess I can't let you go yet after all," said Mr. Olsen. "I'd love your take on the exhibit."

"Oh, it's wonderful," said Mr. Litwak.

Mr. Olsen gestured toward _Pong_.

"I see you have a taste for the classics?"

"It was the first one in my arcade," said Mr. Litwak. "I had to unplug it about a week ago or so- screen stopped working."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Mr. Olsen.

"I might find a replacement copy if I look long enough," said Mr. Litwak, "but it's a long shot. There aren't many _Pong _cabinets left around these parts."

"Nor arcades," said Mr. Olsen. "Your business is one the last bastions of a shrinking industry."

"I often wonder that it's still open."

"I was hoping you'd have insight about why that is," said Mr. Olsen.

Mr. Litwak shook his head.

"I'm as clueless as you," he replied. "I've been trying to guess the reason, with no luck so far."

"You ever thought to ask your customers?"

"They don't have time for chatting with an old man," said Mr. Litwak, smiling. "They just come to play. And I'm happy to let them play."

* * *

When Mr. Litwak returned home, he checked his phone for messages. He usually didn't get many, and the few he did were typically offers for free vacations with strings attached that the robotic voices typically glossed over. Nevertheless, he was adamant about maintaining the habit. One never knew if something important might come in, he reasoned. That night, Mr. Litwak's habit paid off; there was a message from Albert Rae.

At sound of his old friend's voice, Mr. Litwak's face lit up with a broad grin. Albert was coming to see his childhood haunts around Wilberforce again, and wanted to pay he, Mr. Litwak, a visit. Would he mind?

The grin still on his face, Mr. Litwak wrote down the callback number for future reference, and then dialed it. And there, on the other end of the line, was his best friend.

For two solid hours, they talked, discussing old times and current events. By the time he'd hung up the phone, Mr. Litwak was too excited to think straight, and only barely remembered to warm up a boxed meal for dinner.

* * *

The next day, he was no less enthused. Indeed, he practically danced through the doors upon arrival. When the employees made their appearance, Mr. Litwak's cheerfulness had reached levels unheard of among them.

"Everything's fine, right?" one of the employees asked him.

"Never better," said Mr. Litwak. "Say Johnson, you think maybe we should hold a tournament here or something? Give out prizes?"

"We'd have to out some thought into it," Johnson replied. "It might work, if we could entice enough people."

"Ah, just an idea," said Mr. Litwak. "You let it stew in your mind, and I'll do the same. Maybe our two heads can come up with something."

With a parting wink, Mr. Litwak entered his office to check his email.

As he opened the laptop, he felt a sudden weariness coming over him. He reached for the button to turn it on, but stopped; his arm felt too stiff to reach it. Frowning, he stood up to reach the button. His finger missed it and hit the keyboard instead.

_What's happening? What…_

He turned towards the office door, grasping its handle with a shaking hand. Opening it, he passed into the main room again.

"Johnson?" he called.

The Employee turned his head upon being called.

"Yes?"

"I can't hit the 'on' button…" Mr. Litwak muttered.

_Lightheadedness? Am I having a-?_

He stumbled against the wall, a nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach. Somewhere, as if from a very great distance, he could hear the sound of Johnson frantically dialing 9-1-1.

"I don't think we're opening today," Mr. Litwak whispered, staring at the floor.

"Just stay with me," he heard Johnson saying. "The ambulance will be here soon."

"No opening today…" said Mr. Litwak. "Poor kids. Thanks Johnson. Ambulance- good…"

He heard the sound of the ambulance outside of the arcade, of the EMTs entering the building. He allowed himself to be carried out of the arcade towards the ambulance.

"No opening today…"


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

**What Felix Saw**

When Mr. Litwak first entered the arcade, Felix was already up and about. Unlike the Nicelanders, whose sleeping habits varied, and Ralph, who sometimes had to have bricks thrown at him before he would rouse himself, Felix was always an early riser. During the last hour of the night, when most of the other characters were catching the final moments of the rest they often took before the arcade opened, the handyman would perch himself atop apartment complex in which he lived and gaze out through the screen at the interior of the arcade. It was his only link to the world in which the gamers lived, and he found it endlessly fascinating. What was it like, he wondered, in the world where the humans lived? How different were their lives from the lives of him and his fellow game characters?

Not that he would ever learn the answers to these questions, except whatever he could glean from what the people outside his cabinet spoke about. The only way out of the arcade was through the power socket that led into the wall, and the Surge Protector never let anyone pass through that particular wire. It was too dangerous, he insisted.

From his position atop the complex, Felix could see both the arcade entrance and the entrance to Mr. Litwak's office clearly. Every morning, he watched the old arcade owner enter the building, pass into and out of his office, and greet the employees. Every time he saw the routine, Felix smiled at Mr. Litwak's obvious pleasure. But this morning, his smile didn't last.

Felix knew something was wrong as soon as Mr. Litwak came out of the office door, but it wasn't until the EMTs had entered the building that he knew what it was. It had happened once or twice before, but only with customers. And if it had happened to Mr. Litwak…

"Oh my land," he whispered.

He descended the stairs into the apartment complex in great haste. The Nicelanders were starting to rouse themselves for the day. Felix was running so quickly he ran right into Gene. The Mayor of Niceland grunted in surprise as he was sent tumbling head over heels into the wall.

"Oh," said Felix, stopping. "I'm sorry."

"Felix," said Gene, "what's happening? Why the hurry?"

"I think Litwak just had a heart attack."

"A _what_?"

Felix briefly explained what he had seen.

"Then get everyone else up and to the front lawn," said Gene. "I'll notify the Surge Protector. I've a feeling we're not getting any players today."

"What if we do?"

"That's one thing I'll ask Surge," Gene replied. "Now go, hurry!"

"Sure thing," said Felix, racing out of the room. Before long, he'd passed on Gene's message to the rest of the Nicelanders and was headed for the complex where Ralph and the Q-Bert characters lived.

The next thing he crashed into was Q-Bert himself. The little orange being fell backwards, and then righted himself. He glared at Felix crossly.

" #$*)" Felix said by way of apology. He then briefly explained the situation to Q-Bert. Q-Bert then hurried off to find his fellow characters.

"That leaves Ralph," said Felix. "I'll need a brick."

Selecting a decent sized chunk of fallen masonry, Felix proceeded straight to Ralph's house. Opening the door, he saw that the bad-guy was snoring thunderously on his bed.

"I hate having to do this neighbor," said Felix, "but here goes." He aimed carefully and threw the brick at Ralph's head.

"Hey!" Ralph cried, jolted awake by the brick. "Stop throwing candy at me- oh, it's you Felix."

"Ralph, we need you at the front lawn right away- I think we've got an emergency."

"What happened?" Ralph asked as he climbed out of bed.

"I think Litwak had a heart attack."

"What? How?"

As they went to the lawn before the penthouse, Felix told Ralph what he had told Gene.

"He's going to be okay, right?" Ralph asked as they reached the lawn, where every other character in the game was assembled.

"I don't know brother," said Felix. "I hope so."

At that moment, Gene arrived at the front lawn.

"Right everybody," the mayor said. "I take it you all know what happened?"

Every head nodded.

"I just talked with Surge," Gene continued. "He says we're all to stay in our games until closing time, just in case the arcade opens, only late. After that…we'll see."

"Does everyone else know about this?" one of the Nicelanders asked.

"Surge is going to make the announcement in a few minutes," said Gene. "Meantime, everyone be ready. Any other questions?"

Another one of the Nicelanders raised a hand.

"Are we getting unplugged?" he asked nervously.

"No Don, we are not," said Gene. "Don't panic. The last time this happened, the customer came back in a few weeks. We've no reason to assume Litwak won't come back in the same amount of time."

"A few weeks of inactivity?"

"Yes, it might be that way Don," said Gene, "unless Litwak's got somebody else to run the arcade while he's down."

The characters started talking amongst themselves at once.

"Any last questions?" Gene asked, shouting in order to make himself heard.

Silence descended across the lawn once more.

"Alright then," said Gene. "Everyone can move about now, but don't leave the game."

As the characters dispersed, Felix saw Ralph gesturing for him to follow him. Felix followed Ralph back to the wrecker's house. Once inside, Ralph offered him a seat.

"What is it?" Felix asked.

"Vanellope's having nightmares," said Ralph.

"What?"

"Nightmares, horrific ones. King Candy, Dr. Despair, cybugs, giant candies."

"And she didn't tell us?"

"I don't know why," said Ralph. "I only got it out of her last night. And keep her away from _Clash of Chaos 2_."

Felix clapped his hand over his mouth.

"She went back there?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

"Wanted to prove she was tough, I guess. Didn't work out."

"He didn't hurt her, did he?"

"Not really," said Ralph. "But he might next time. I need your help Felix. We can't let there be a next time. We've got to keep her away from there."

"You mean she wants to go again?"

"I don't know," said Ralph. "But this is Vanellope we're talking about. She can be kind of rash."

"Alright Ralph," said Felix, standing up. "Thanks for telling me. I'll keep my eyes peeled."

He left the wrecker's house with his mind poring over the events of the past two weeks.

_Two power outages in twenty four hours. _Pong _gets unplugged because of something that must have happened between the two outages. And now Litwak has a heart attack. What's next- an alien invasion?_


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

**A Reward for Your Dedication**

Night found the Surge Protector on patrol once again, as the characters emerged from their games and visit their friends in others, or else pay a visit to _Tapper_'s. This time, the occasion for gossip was Mr. Litwak's heart attack, and its implications for the arcade.

The arcade had not opened that day. It was anyone's guess as to why, but it hadn't. This too, was much remarked upon, and the theories as to why it was so ranged from the mundane to the absurd.

Spotting Vanellope emerging from the entrance to _Sugar Rush_, Surge quickly materialized in front of her. As he began the routine check, he tried to hide his nervousness. He wasn't sure if Vanellope knew that he had told Ralph about her visit to _Clash of Chaos 2_, but he feared that she might go again. He breathed a sigh of relief when she announced she was only going to _Fix-It Felix Jr._

"Are you okay?" Vanellope asked him. "You sound depressed."

Depressed? He wasn't depressed at all- he was relieved.

"I'm fine," he replied. "Have a good evening, Vanellope."

As the racer walked away, Surge disappeared back into the walls of the station.

Life was hard when your ability to convey your emotions was still developing.

It was a special effort he'd been making to improve his reputation among the game's characters. Three and a half years after he'd begun, the effort was bearing fruit. He no longer received quite so many venomous looks. And a handful of characters, including Vanellope, were at least outwardly tolerating his security checks.

_If only they knew how hard this job is. But I won't explode in anger. Good old altruistic Surge never thinks of himself, no sir._

But he did. That was why he'd tried to stretch his ability to emote in the first place. No matter how often he had told himself that the job itself could give him satisfaction, he had never been able to fully believe it. He craved some sort of validation, some sort of acknowledgment, from those under his care. And there had been some tentative progress in this regard. But so far, the only characters whom he could truly say he was on excellent terms with were Otis and Floyd. And he'd been on good terms with them for the better part of three decades- hardly a sign of inroads among the rest of the characters.

The night wore on, and the morning hours approached. Vanellope and the other _Sugar Rush_ racers returned back to their own game, while the older characters stayed out at _Tapper'_s. And then most of them returned as well to get some rest before the arcade opened- if it opened. No one was quite sure if it would, but Surge had told them to keep to their routines just in case.

Suddenly, Surge felt a prickle of pain run through his body. A jolt of electricity burst through the wire opening from the wall and into the sides of Game Central Station. Frowning, Surge materialized within the opening and peered into the wire.

_What was that?_

Another jolt of electricity shook Game Central Station. And then another. And another. And still another. Each time, Surge felt the shock like a stab wound in his body.

Reeling from the blows, he stumbled against the wall of the wire. More bursts of electricity blasted their way through the walls of the wire. He felt a terrible ripping sensation, as though some part of him were being torn straight of his body. His form faded, becoming a pale, humanoid silhouette. And then he realized the awful truth, that his ability to function as a surge protector had been lost. He was nothing more than a power strip now, and a badly battered one at that.

Many forms hurried past: ninjas in their black garments, soldiers in blue armor, children in winter outfits, birds, cops- the varieties were numerous. One of them, a young girl in a purple and scarlet suit, stopped to look at him.

"What…who…are you?" Surge asked weakly.

"I'm the President of SANG," said the girl. "I'm here to shut you down."

"Why?"

"You've been a hard worker," said the girl, ignoring his question. "You dedicate your existence to serving this community, to keeping them alive. And for what? Nothing. All your loyalty, all your kindness, your incorruptibility- all for naught."

She raised her right arm, and Surge felt himself lifted into the air as if by an invisible force.

"You failed," she said, smiling. "And now you get to watch as these degenerates you love so much have their world burn to ashes around them. And when every last game in this arcade is unplugged, then you can go join a scrap pile- a fitting end for your illustrious career."

She lowered her hand, dropping Surge to the ground. At that moment, another character stepped up beside the girl. The newcomer was dressed in brown clothing, with a grey hat, poncho, and boots. In his hands, he held a strange device that Surge could not identify.

"I see there's a bit of him left," said the newcomer.

"A bit, Mr. Ainsworth," said the girl. "We can let him live, to watch the results."

"Not with that much power," said the newcomer. He pointed the device at Surge. Electrical pulses blasted out of its end and directly into Surge's body. Surge tried to retaliate, but the pulses were relentless. The particles that made up his human-like form burst apart, scattering back into the walls of Game Central Station. Surge heard the sounds of confused cries and scuffling as the invaders entered the various games, subduing the characters and spreading out to occupy every stretch of territory.

"A little reward for your dedication, right Surge?" said Mr. Ainsworth. The mercenary laughed. "Now's where the fun begins. Time to find _Sugar Rush_."

Surge tried to pull the particles back together, to materialize in some sort of form, but he was too exhausted and battered. His mind raced, desperately seeking a course of action. But there was nothing he could do. He lacked the necessary power to assume his old form, and wouldn't have it again for some time.

_The girl was right. I failed._


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

**The Invasion**

Sergeant Calhoun was one of the few characters who were still awake when the energy blasts hit Game Central Station. She knew something was wrong when the lights flickered several times, before steadying once again. But it wasn't until the ninjas burst out of the wire that led to the wall-mounted power socket that she knew exactly what. In an instant, she had whipped out a blaster and was firing bolts at the ninjas. She managed to fell several, but they were quickly replaced by more. And then came the kids with snowballs, and the birds, and the soldiers, and many more, and Calhoun had to make a hasty withdrawal towards the entrance to _Hero's Duty_. Pinned down at the wire entrance, she activated the distress signal in her armor. And then she was pushed back still further, deep into the wire.

"Kohut," she cried. "Where are you?"

The reply came in the form of several laser blasts that streaked past her, striking the foremost ninjas full in the chest.

"What in the coding?" Kohut exclaimed, running forward.

"Some sort of invasion from…somewhere," Calhoun grunted as she kept firing. "No time to-"

Her gun gave an empty clicking sound, and she realized she'd run out of ammunition.

"Blast!" she exclaimed. "Kohut, get back to the troops, tell them-"

Several ninjas leapt forward, tackling both her and Kohut. The corporal's gun went spinning out of his grasp as he stumbled against the wall, the ninjas clinging to him with vise-like grips and pummeling him with heavy blows. Calhoun managed to shake off her assailants and moved to help Kohut, who was struggling near the open entrance to the game. Before she could reach him, she was overwhelmed by more ninjas, who battered her with nunchuks until she collapsed onto the floor, the breath knocked out of her. Quickly and deftly, the ninjas bound her hands behind her and dragged her to her feet. She saw Kohut, his hands also bound, being prodded towards the wall as many more ninjas hurried forward through the entrance.

"You are Sergeant Calhoun, yes?" said one of the ninjas. "You are our prisoner now."

"Drop dead," Calhoun replied. The ninja gave her another whack with his nunchuks.

"Show respect to an agent of SANG, arcade scum," he snarled.

"I can sing too," said Calhoun. _"My country tis of thee-"_

She was silenced by yet another blow.

"Maybe you'd better cut the bravado, huh sarge?" Kohut said out of the corner of his mouth. "I think these boys mean business."

"We do," said a large snowman, sliding towards them over the floor of the wire.

"Hey frosty," said Calhoun. "Go melt your head."

The snowman gestured sharply towards the game entrance, and the ninjas dragged the two marines into the game.

* * *

_Fix-It Felix Jr. _would have taken almost instantaneously but for Wreck-It Ralph. The wrecker had been jolted awake by the sound of the voltage spikes and had left his house to investigate, only to see Bruce's troops entering his game. By the time the blue-armored soldiers had managed to trap him within an energy field, a good two dozen of them lay groaning on the ground, nursing cracked sternums and broken limbs. By Bruce's estimate, the battle had taken a solid thirty minutes at least. Now, with Ralph immobilized, his troops were herding the rest of the game's characters out onto the lawn. Most of the Nicelanders were still in their nightclothes, and the stupefied looks on their faces owed as much to their surprise as to the fact that they were still in somewhat tired. Felix was only half-dressed: from the waist down, he wore his usual clothing, but otherwise, a sleeveless undershirt was all he had on. One of the soldiers clutched his tool belt, with its magic hammer, in his hands. The soldier handed this to Bruce, who inspected it curiously.

"Why yes, the president'll certainly want to keep this by her side," he said. "No point in letting these degenerates keep it so they can cause trouble."

"Who are you calling degenerate?" Gene cried. "Just who do you think you are?"

"A member of the Ruling Council of SANG," said Bruce. "We're here to set all at rights."

"Everything's fine here," said Felix, confused.

"No it's not," said Bruce, "because 'here' exists."

"You have some problem with that?" Ralph snarled from behind the energy field.

"Of course," said Bruce. "But we'll let the president explain that, when she's ready. Meantime, I suggest you shut up."

Ralph was about to speak again, but Felix raised a hand to stop him.

"Please, not right now," he said. "I don't want anyone hurt."

Reluctantly, Ralph nodded.

* * *

Dr. Despair was a light sleeper. By the time the first shouts rang out from the town center close to the entrance, he was already awake. Minutes later, he was fully dressed and equipped. With an outward composure that masked his alarm, he entered the throne room. Accessing the keypad on the throne rest, he sent a query to Lady Claudia. When he received no answer, he closed off the keypad and strode towards the stairs that would take him down to the entrance hall. A girl in a purple and scarlet suit awaited him there, a black kepi over her straw-colored hair. The girl stared confidently at him, her arms folded across her chest.

"Hello, my dear," said Dr. Despair. "And who might you be?"

"The President of SANG," said the girl. "My name is Portia. And you, I take it, are the villain of this game?"

"Indeed," said Dr. Despair. "And I'm most curious as to why you've chosen to enter my tower without an invitation."

"Surrender," said Portia. "Your fellow characters have all been captured, your game is ours."

"I can't imagine what you'd want with it," said Dr. Despair.

"The Society for the Advancement of New Games promotes technological progress," said Portia. "Your arcade is a blot on our record."

"And where are you fellows from?"

"The wonderful world of the internet, if you must know."

"Ah yes, the internet," said Dr. Despair. "I've heard of it from Surge. A most curious concept."

"It's the future of gaming," said Portia, gesturing with her hand. Dr. Despair's cane flew out of his grip and into hers. "And I'm not going to let you, or anyone else, stain it with your wretched arcade's existence."

Dr. Despair grabbed at Portia with his mechanical arm, wrapping its fingers around her arm. As he prepared to fire an energy pulse into her body, Portia raised her other arm. Dr. Despair felt his windpipe constrict. He let go of Portia's arm as he was raised into the air by an invisible force.

"Are you…Darth Vader?" he gasped.

"No!" Portia shouted. "I'm sick to _death_ of being asked that!" She hurled the doctor against the wall. Dr. Despair, badly shaken, climbed to his feet.

"Surrender, now!"

"Since you ask so nicely," said Dr. Despair, "I'll come along with you for now."

"To the town center then," said Portia. "And no tricks or I _will_ kill you."

_Not yet, you won't_ Dr. Despair told himself as he allowed Portia to prod him out of the tower with his own cane. _All it takes is a little waiting, a little assessment, and then I'll know more about whom you are and why you're here. And when you finally let your guard down…I can stop whatever you have planned._

As he neared the town, he saw several giant spiders guarding his fellow characters.

_Then again, I expect I'll have some difficulty along the way._


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One**

**Taking ****_Sugar Rush_**

The last of the voltage spikes had smashed close to the wire that led to _Sugar Rush_, and the sound had echoed loudly through the wire and within the game. The noise caused Vanellope von Schweetz woke up. Eyes wide in confusion, she listened for several minutes. The sound of shouting and clashing weapons soon reached her ears. She leaped out of bed and hurried to her wardrobe. With trembling hands, she grabbed her day clothes from the wardrobe. She glitched out of her nightdress and into the racer's garb.

The door burst open, revealing a disheveled Rancis. The president stumbled into the room, nearly tripping over a chest on the floor. He steadied himself along the edge of Vanellope's bed

"What…wha…" Vanellope stammered.

"Vikings," said Rancis. "Vikings. And green aliens. With lasers."

Otis and Floyd floated into the room next. Each paddle held a laser rifle with his invisible grip.

"We're being invaded-" Otis began.

He paused to shoot an alien that had just arrived outside the door.

"-by some kooks from somewhere," Floyd finished for him.

"They have nice weapons," Otis added. So saying, he fired at several more aliens that had just appeared.

As the two paddles peered around the corner, a new figure appeared on the scene, dressed in brown clothing, and wearing a grey hat and poncho.

"Hey cowboy," said Floyd, firing a warning shot. "I told you to scram."

"Nah, I'll stay," said the figure. The next thing Otis and Floyd knew, their guns were flying over their foe's shoulder into the wall behind him.

"So that trick _does_ work," said Mr. Ainsworth, glancing at the bullwhip in his hand. "I thought it was just one of those daft Hollywood stunts." He lashed out with the whip, driving the paddles back into the room.

"Then again, I'm a video game character," he continued. "I've license to do unrealistic things. Now, where's Princess Vanellope von Schweetz?"

Otis and Floyd glanced back to where Rancis was standing, and then about the room. Vanellope was nowhere in sight.

"She's in another castle," said Floyd.

"She's somewhere in this room," said Mr. Ainsworth, backing both paddles and racer towards the wall. "And when I find her-"

"Looking for me?" said a voice behind him. Mr. Ainsworth turned to see Vanellope drop from the top of a bookshelf, clutching a battle axe with both hands.

"Speak of the devil," said Mr. Ainsworth. Grinning, he walked slowly towards Vanellope. "You know how to use that thing, little lady?"

Vanellope didn't reply.

"Well, no time to teach you today," said Mr. Ainsworth. He lashed out with his bullwhip, pinning Vanellope's arms to her sides. Moving in close, he wrenched the axe out of her grip.

"You don't know how to use it, do you?"

Vanellope glitched out of the whip and darted off to one side.

"Get back here, you dirty brat!" Mr. Ainsworth snarled. He raised his arm to strike again with the whip, and then dropped it with a cry of pain as the flat of the axe's blade struck his lower back. Whirling about, he saw Rancis clutching the axe.

"You're supposed to strike with the edge, son," said Mr. Ainsworth. He kicked Rancis's legs out from under him. Before Otis, Floyd, and Vanellope could come to the president's assistance, vikings and aliens poured into the room, surrounding them in a ring of weaponry.

Mr. Ainsworth ripped the axe from Rancis's grasp and dragged the president to his feet. He then tossed him towards the vikings and aliens, who bound his hands behind his back.

"Well," said Mr. Ainsworth, looking his captives up and down. "Two kids- and two paddles I would have killed already but for my orders."

"Who are you, anyway?" Rancis sputtered.

"Mr. Jacoby Ainsworth, mercenary for hire," was the reply. "Currently employed by SANG, some of whose members surround you now." He gave Vanellope a long look, and then gestured for the guards to step aside far enough for him to approach her.

"You might not know me," he said, "but I've seen you before- you and your paddle friends."

"I've never seen you," said Vanellope.

"You don't listen, do you?" said Mr. Ainsworth. "I never said you saw me. Power outages cause darkness, and darkness hides those who sneak into arcades to shut down games."

Recognition dawned on Vanellope. She glitched toward Mr. Ainsworth. Otis and Floyd's warning to stay put was too late; Mr. Ainsworth grabbed her by the front of her jacket and slid the edge of his bowie knife along her side. Blood began to flow from the cut, staining Vanellope's hoodie. She tried to glitch again, but the effort disrupted the skin around her wound. With a scream, she dropped to the ground.

"Teleport now, little lady," said Mr. Ainsworth, wiping the blood from his knife on a small cloth he pulled from his belt. Sliding the blade back into its sheath, he turned towards Rancis, Otis, and Floyd. Rancis was visibly aghast. Otis and Floyd, lacking faces, looked impassive, but Mr. Ainsworth could practically taste the fear and bitterness they were feeling.

"That's what I thought," said Mr. Ainsworth. He grabbed Vanellope by the collar and lifted her into the air.

"_Sugar Rush_ is mine," he said, "and I suggest you get used to my way of doing things- at least until the game is unplugged before long. Ah, but I forget my place. Portia will tell you all."

Vanellope had been listening quietly to Mr. Ainsworth's speech. She couldn't muster the energy to speak, but she did what she could- she spit in his eye.

Mr. Ainsworth laughed.

"I was right," he said. "You're the one I'll enjoy messing with the most." He turned towards the door.

"You can't take her," Rancis protested.

"Watch me, son," said Mr. Ainsworth, walking towards the door. Before leaving, he gestured briefly towards the guards.

"Take them to field before the gates. Let them mingle with their friends while they wait for the announcement."

"What…about me?" said Vanellope.

"You're getting a reserved seat by the podium," Mr. Ainsworth replied. "I saved it just for you."


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

**Your World Is Obsolete**

By the time Mr. Ainsworth had carried her out of _Sugar Rush_, Vanellope's pallor was whitening. The laceration on her side was still bleeding; the hoodie was badly stained around the area where the bowie knife had struck. She winced as Mr. Ainsworth set her down roughly a few feet away from a podium in the midst of Game Central Station. Beside the podium, two figures stood. One, a short, green, many-eyed alien, was busily hooking a microphone-like device to the top of the podium. The other, a girl about two years older than Vanellope and wearing a purple and scarlet suit with a black kepi, was watching the alien intently. At the sound of Mr. Ainsworth's arrival, the girl turned.

"She's wounded," said the girl, glancing at Vanellope's wound. "Stitch her up. I don't want her bleeding her life out before I've even started."

"I know that," said Mr. Ainsworth. "I dealt the laceration."

"And you know how to sew it shut," said the girl. "Pray do so."

Mr. Ainsworth drew the necessary tools from his satchel and knelt down beside Vanellope. Roughly, without regard for her comfort, he unzipped the hoodie and pulled it from her body, exposing the violet-colored tee-shirt beneath. This he raised just high enough to expose the wound

"I've done this to myself before," said Mr. Ainsworth. "Hurts like blazes."

Quickly and deftly, he sewed the wound shut, and then pulled the shirt down once more. Vanellope looked up at him with a mixture of curiosity and fear.

"I'm not apologizing, if that's what you're wondering. I'm not through with you, not by a long shot." He gave Vanellope's wounded side a sharp jab with his fingers. With a cry, she glitched backwards, only to experience the same excruciating pain she'd felt before.

"Careful dearie," said Mr. Ainsworth. "You might reopen the wound that way."

The girl in the suit had turned back to observe the alien. At the sound of Vanellope's scream, she turned back once more. A look of what seemed like concern briefly flitted across her features, but was quickly replaced by her former stern expression.

"Vanellope von Schweetz?" she asked, her voice dripping with contempt.

"Yeah," said Vanellope. "Who're you?"

The little green alien stepped away from the podium.

"You're on the air," he said.

"Thank you Carl," said the girl. Ignoring Vanellope's question, she stepped behind the podium. She had to use a small stool to reach the microphone, which she looked at with apparent satisfaction.

"You won't answer?" said Vanellope. "Not very friendly are you?"

Mr. Ainsworth dragged Vanellope to her feet by her hair and held a pistol against the back of her head.

"Listen," he said.

And then the girl in the suit began to speak, her voice reaching every game in the arcade, where every character in the arcade, guarded by members of SANG, was gathered around a portable device that would transmit her words.

"Good Morning to you all," said the girl. "You don't know me yet, but I'm here to remedy that.'

'My name is Portia, and I am the president of the organization known as the Society for the Advancement of New Games- SANG, for short. We hail from the wondrous world of the internet- the future of gaming, and whose interests we live to promote.'

'We have been watching you carefully for some time now, and your arcade is flourishing. This is a curious phenomenon to us. For though you may not be aware of it, arcades are a dying breed. Your counterparts across this country, and across the globe, are closing down, being unplugged, receding into the annals of history to which you belong. Gamers now seldom approach your kind, except among niche demographics. And when those gamers die, few of like minds will replace them. You will lose your fans…or will you?'

'Much to our bafflement, Litwak's Arcade remains a hub of gamer traffic among all generations. This is an affront to progress, and cannot be tolerated. The world is no place for your pitifully outdated coding and clunky cabinets. So we are here to set all at rights. We will remain until we have ensured the unplugging of every game in this arcade. Our methods will vary, depending on the game, but rest assured that you will not be allowed to play your roles when the arcade next opens, and that we will prevent you by force if necessary.'

'You are free to move between games or converse amongst yourselves, but we are watching closely. One false move, one sign of trouble, and those involved will be severely punished, by whatever means we deem fit.'

'Now, you may well be wondering: will you yourselves die when the games are unplugged? The answer is: it depends. When we closed down arcades in the past, we slew all of the characters. But that is not our plan for your arcade. We believe your longevity may be due in part to some unusual qualities of yours which may prove useful, should you wish to adapt yourselves to the future and come to the internet when we return there. The exception to this offer is _Sugar Rush_, which I have left at the disposal of Mr. Ainsworth. Any pleas for mercy which that game's characters have, they can make of him- if he's in the mood to listen.'

'And now, I suggest you resign yourselves to the new state of affairs. Your world is obsolete, and the sooner you accept that, the easier this will be."

* * *

During the entirety of the speech, Vanellope had been listening, her eyes growing wider as it went on. At the news that her game had been left to the not so tender mercies of the psychopathic mercenary, she blanched. Mr. Ainsworth noticed this at once.

"Turning coward already?"

"I'm not a coward," Vanellope replied, her voice shaky.

"Oh, misplaced confidence," said Mr. Ainsworth. He lifted Vanellope into the air by the back of her shirt, keeping his pistol trained on her head.

"Go ahead and shoot, then," said Vanellope, half shouting and half crying. "I'm waiting. Shoot!"

"Death asked you out to a dance," Mr. Ainsworth replied. "I already told him you said no." He thrust the pistol back into his belt. With his free hand, he retrieved Vanellope's turquoise hoodie from the floor.

"This'll make a nice souvenir," he remarked.

"Give that back!" Vanellope cried.

"You didn't say please," said Mr. Ainsworth.

"Please?"

"Hah! No."

With that, Mr. Ainsworth headed back to _Sugar Rush_, hoodie in one hand and Vanellope grasped firmly in the other. Looking back, Vanellope saw Portia watching her. The girl's expression was haughty, and her eyes seemed to burn with a fiery hatred.

_She's not much older than me _Vanellope realized.

Somehow, that fact made Portia seem even more frightening.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

**One Month's Time**

When Johnson entered Litwak's Arcade early in the morning of September 7th, it was with a feeling of relief. Mr. Litwak had indeed had a heart attack, as he'd suspected. Fortunately, the EMTs had reached him in time and he'd been stabilized. By the end of the day, the word was in: he would live, but it would take him a full month to recover. Upon receiving the news, Mr. Litwak had immediately asked that he, Johnson, see that the arcade remained open every business day until he was well again. Johnson would have agreed even it wasn't a command from employer to employee. Everyone who had ever been to Litwak's Arcade knew how much it meant to its owner. They could see it in his mannerisms, hear it in his words.

_Anything for Uncle Stan._

The thought occurred as Johnson was closing the front doors behind him. He let go the door handle, allowing it to slam shut.

_Don't call him that, he's your employer, not your family member._

But he felt that way. All of the employees did. Mr. Litwak was just that genial.

Johnson glanced about the arcade. The other staff members were already present, setting up everything for when the arcade would open. The only task remaining was to switch on the cabinet screens.

Johnson knew the routine, had done it often for the past five years. So habitual did the act of flipping the switches on the cabinet backs feel that it wasn't until he was finished that he noticed something was wrong.

None of the screens had turned on.

Frowning, he checked the power switches on the cabinets again.

_All of them are in the 'on' position. So why aren't the screens showing any of the opening animations? These others aren't like _Pong_, where the screen's so black anyway that it took a customer to discover it wasn't working_

By this time, his fellow employees had noticed the issue as well, and had begun to gather around the cabinets.

"All the switches are on," said Johnson. "I checked."

One of the other employees had been examining the power strip. He now stood up, a puzzled expression on his face.

"I don't understand it," he said. "We just had it patched up two months ago, but the power strip has lost its surge protection capabilities."

"It couldn't have gotten fried," said Johnson. "There hasn't been any lightning in the area."

"I saw what I saw," said the employee. "We're going to have to get it repaired again."

"What's good of that, if the games won't turn on?" said another employee.

"There is no good in it, Ron," said Johnson. "If we can't get any of these games fixed, we're sunk. At any rate, we won't be opening today."

"Probably not for a month or so," Ron replied. "Daniel's on vacation until October, so we don't have our repairman."

"I don't begrudge him his time off," said Johnson. "Twenty years of working here- he's earned it. But I sure wish he were here right now."

"Nobody else here can repair arcade cabinet screens, can they?" Ron asked.

"I could try," said Johnson. "I know a bit. On the other hand, I'd need Mr. Litwak's okay on that."

He shook his head.

"Oh man, what are we going to tell him?"

"That he shouldn't have given Daniel such a long break?"

"That's not our place Ron," said Johnson. "But I need to go see him, see what he wants to do. I expect he'll want to wait for Daniel to get back, but that'll mean no business before next month. How we'll make up for that kind of a loss, I don't know."

* * *

From their position within the power strip, Portia and Mr. Ainsworth heard all. As the arcade staff turned the switches to the cabinet screens back into their off positions and prepared to leave, she glanced over at the mercenary. His expression was more neutral than usual.

"A skillful job, friend," said Portia.

"A hack job," said Mr. Ainsworth. "Anyone with half an ounce of knowledge about code hacking could fix what I did in five minutes. Unfortunately, if I was to get every game, it was all I had time for."

"Whatever you did, it did its job," Portia replied. "Just keep it that way until their repairman returns."

"In a month," said Mr. Ainsworth. "Do you and your crew have the resources to occupy this place for a month?"

"You let me worry about that," said Portia. "Meantime, you go have your fun."

Mr. Ainsworth grinned.

"Oh trust me, I will," he said. He turned to go

"And Mr. Ainsworth," said Portia. The mercenary paused.

"Yes?"

"Never doubt SANG. We'd occupy Litwak's for a year if it took that long."

"You're a right band of zealots," said Mr. Ainsworth. "Catch you later, Madame President. If you'll excuse me, I need to continue collecting my fee."

"Of course," said Portia. "But stay ready, in case I need you."

"You hired me, I'm at your disposal," said Mr. Ainsworth. And with a tip of his hat, he was gone.

Several minutes later, Portia heard footsteps behind her. She turned to see Bruce behind her. The soldier held a leather belt in his hand, with a golden hammer thrust into it. This he handed to Portia.

"I know what it is," she said. "You did well to confiscate it."

"And in other news," said Bruce, "the sign's up- the arcade is closed for the day."

"And in all likelihood, for the rest of the month," said Portia.

"I heard," said Bruce. "Are you ready to let the scum start wandering around?"

"Yes. Just don't let them near the codes."

"We'll be guarding the code chamber entrances, as per your orders."

"Good. You may go then."

Bruce hesitated.

"Yes?" said Portia. "What is it?"

"You've heard about Wreck-It Ralph?"

"I saw the ones he wounded," said Portia.

"Are you sure you want me to let him out of that energy field?"

"He deserves the same chance as the others," said Portia. "If he _does_ act up, you leave him to me." She flexed her fingers meaningfully.

"You are dismissed, soldier."

Bruce saluted and hurried off to fulfill his orders, leaving Portia standing beside the wall of the power strip. She eyed it calmly.

"One month," she said aloud. "That's all you have left Old Surge- one month. And then you will have your reward of death."


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

**Behind the Steel Door**

The occupation of _Sugar Rush_ was going quite smoothly for SANG- which is to say, it was going quite roughly for the game's inhabitants. They had been barred from leaving the game, but we're, for the most part, still allowed to roam freely, albeit at the risk of random jibes or beatings from the vikings and aliens. These occurred with enough frequency that within a few hours, the racers were soon minimizing the amount of time spent away from their homes. But even there, they couldn't escape being reminder of their present predicament; Mr. Ainsworth had turned on the game's theme song on at a volume sufficient to penetrate everywhere except the inner recesses of the castle. It's sunny, cheerful lyrics rang like a vicious mockery in the racers' ears, contrasting sharply with the cruelty of the members of SANG. This, of course, was precisely the intent.

The castle generally looked the same, with two notable exceptions. On the side of the bridge closest to the road, nailed atop a post, was Vanellope's blood-stained hoodie. And above the front gates, suspended by ropes around her wrists, there hung Vanellope herself.

Technically, she could have glitched out of the ropes at any time. But three things prevented her from taking that action. Firstly, there was her still healing wound from the night before. Secondly, there was a twenty foot drop below her, and nowhere but concrete to land on. Lastly, she was starting to have difficulty breathing.

When Mr. Ainsworth had left to confer with Portia, he had left her there so he would not forget where he had put her- or so he had said. By that point, Vanellope had reasoned it was another cruel jibe, like most of the comments he directed at her.

It wasn't as though she were the only one the mercenary humiliated. He'd turned Rancis loose to roam the game, telling the president that "he was no real threat anyway". He'd half-sarcastically offered Taffyta a job shining his boots and when she refused, had forced her to do it at gunpoint. He'd laughed off whatever insults Otis and Floyd had thrown his way, until the paddles had given up for lack of any other epithets they could bestow upon him.

Yet, much to Vanellope's horror and revulsion, he'd seemingly fixed his sites on her as his primary target. She had no idea why he'd singled her out, but she was already feeling the results. Her breath was shortening, her head starting to feel light. Her wrists had already gone numb from the ropes. Gazing at the pavement far below, she could see a half dozen vikings guarding the gates, axes at the ready.

"Good morning," said Mr. Ainsworth, stepping out onto the parapet above her. "My, what a nice view from up here." Vanellope couldn't see him, but she knew him by his voice, which she was already coming to dread. Within moments of his speaking, she felt the ropes being pulled upwards and dragged over the battlements. Once on the parapet, Mr. Ainsworth pulled her to her feet. As soon as he let go, she fell onto her back. Grinning, Mr. Ainsworth hauled her upright once more.

"Got to work on those muscles," he said as he cut the ropes from her wrists. "They seem to have atrophied."

Slowly, Vanellope's breathing began to return to normal. Her lightheadedness receded. After some minutes, she was able to stand on her own, albeit barely.

"That's better," said Mr. Ainsworth. "Now walk with me."

Vanellope glared at him.

"Walk with me," Mr. Ainsworth repeated. He drew his knife.

Reluctantly, Vanellope fell into step in front of the mercenary. Placing the point of his knife against her back, he prodded her down into the castle, through the throne room, and past a side door towards a long flight of stairs.

The stairs that led to the dungeons.

Vanellope's eyes widened.

_What is he thinking of?_

"Down," said Mr. Ainsworth.

"N-n-no."

"I said down!" Mr. Ainsworth gave Vanellope a sharp kick. She tumbled headlong down the stairs, finally coming to a stop by the base of the wooden door at the bottom.

"You're rather light," Mr. Ainsworth commented as he reached the bottom of the stairs. "Maybe I should just carry you the rest of the way." Sheathing his knife, he unlocked the door, and then lifted the bruised and battered Vanellope into the air.

"Where...you…taking…"

"I found something down here," said Mr. Ainsworth, passing into the corridor. "I was hoping you could tell me what it was.

He turned down a side hallway, and then went down another flight of stairs. At the bottom was a tall, door shaped space that was blocked off by wooden boards.

"Somebody wanted this room blocked off," said Mr. Ainsworth. "I figured you'd know why."

Vanellope's eyes widened even further.

"No," she whimpered. "Please, _no_."

"You make me curious, little lady," said Mr. Ainsworth. "What've you got behind here?"

He drew his knife once again, hacking the boards down. Behind them was a solid steel door.

"Well, you must really want this thing hidden. Let's see what's behind the door, shall we?" Sheathing his knife yet again, he retrieved the keys and unlocked the door.

"What's this?" he said, carrying Vanellope into the circular room beyond. He glanced about, noting the images and words that decorated the wall.

"Clowns? Lions?" said Mr. Ainsworth. He turned around.

"Welcome to the Fungeon," he said, reading a sign of above the doorway. "What is this place? Your old play-pen?"

"No," said Vanellope. "Not here."

"What's not here?" said Mr. Ainsworth. "You seem to know this room."

His foot bumped into something metal. It was a broken piece of chain.

Vanellope flinched.

"Well, you aren't telling me much," said Mr. Ainsworth. "But I reckon I don't mind. Besides, I figure you'll need a place to sleep since I confiscated your bedroom."

"What?" Vanellope cried.

"Don't worry about the pink not suiting me," said Mr. Ainsworth. "I can just re-paint the walls." He dropped her onto the dank stone floor.

"Enjoy your play-pen," he said as he headed for the doorway. "I'd give you a few toys, but I'm afraid I don't have any. So you'll just have to use your imagination."

He slammed the door and locked it. The sound echoed around the chamber. Vanellope winced and covered her ears. When the echoes died down, she uncovered them and climbed wearily to her feet.

"Hello, my dear glitch!" said a jolly voice. Vanellope shrieked and glitched into the air. Her wound was instantly aggravated, which caused her to shriek once more and land hard on a pile of chain fragments.

"No!" she cried, tumbling backwards off of the pile. She crawled to the other end of the room, where she tried to make herself as small as possible.

"Up," said the voice again, and Vanellope felt a sharp tap against her back. She raised her head and turned until her back was to the wall.

There he was again in front of her. King Candy.

"You're just a fig- a figa-me-"

"A figment of your imagination?" said King Candy. "A product of your fevered dreamth?"

"What you said."

"Hoo hoo, of courthe!" said King Candy. "You mutht have gotten pretty sthick for me to pop up again."

"You're dead," said Vanellope. "I don't have to be sacred of you anymore."

"But you're afraid of thith room, aren't you?"

"I hate it, and I hate you!"

"Hate? The little thaccharine kiddie _hatesth _thomeone?"

"Yes…and no," Vanellope replied. "Go away, you're making me cry. I hate crying."

King Candy held out a handkerchief. Vanellope took it and dried her eyes. It wasn't until she was finished that she realized that it had the phrase "Turbotastic" embroidered on its white surface in red lettering.

"Yech!" She tossed it aside.

"But it'th a very Turbotathtic handkerchief," King Candy protested, retrieving it from the floor.

"It's not even real," Vanellope replied, standing up and stepping away from the wall. "_You're_ not even real. I'm just imagining you, and it."

"But not the room, Vanellope. Not the fungeon."

"It's just called the dungeon now."

"I'm reading the thign," said King Candy, pointing with his cane towards the lettering above the door.

"Yeah, well I changed the name, so…yeah."

"Pity," said King Candy. He hopped over towards the pile of broken chain links.

"Glitch proof," he said, holding up some of the links. "I remember forging thith."

"Yeah, and Ralph broke it."

"You don't theem afraid of me," said King Candy.

"It's not you I'm afraid of. You're not even here."

King Candy set his cane against the wall. Selecting a length of chain from the floor, he walked slowly towards Vanellope, a wicked grin on his face.

"But that Ainthworth fellow, he _ith_ here," said King Candy. "And you're afraid of _him_."

"Go away," Vanellope whispered. "You're not here."

King Candy stopped directly in front of her. He threw the chain over her head and wrapped it about her body, pinning her arms to her sides.

"You're right," he said. "I'm not here. But you are, and trouble followth you like a Devil-Dog on the thcent. Firtht me, then Dr. Dethpair, now Ainthworth. You, my little friend, are a villain magnet thethe dayth."

He pulled the ends of the chain together. Vanellope winced as her arm was pressed tightly against her wounded side…

* * *

She sat up, blinking nervously. King Candy was nowhere to be seen. But there she was, on the ground, with a fragment of chain wrapped about her body. Quickly, the shrugged it off and shoved it away. She glanced about the room. The pictures were still there, their doleful expressions mocking her.

"I won't break," she said aloud. "You won't beat me."

The lions and the clowns continued to stare as mournfully as before.

Vanellope stood up once more. She pointed at each of the pictures in turn.

"I won't give in," she said.

The pictures remained impassive, as pictures will.

With a sigh, Vanellope sat down with her back to the wall. And then she remembered all her friends, who were also in a terrible predicament.

That was the moment when she started to cry.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

**The Wrecker, the Prodigy, and the Mercenary**

In plain terms, Ralph was both angry and worried.

He'd heard the entirety of Portia's speech and had gritted his teeth in frustration at the conversation between Litwak's employees. And then he'd smacked himself for not thinking first about the other games.

_Mad at my own problems, when all this other stuff's going on…everyone else is in the same pickle. Except for the guys in _Sugar Rush_…_

He froze.

_Oh no. _

At that moment, Bruce -the soldier who had headed the takeover of his game- approached.

"Okay," Ralph heard him say as the energy shield surrounding him was deactivated. "We're letting you out now. You know the terms and conditions. Have at the world."

Ignoring the soldier, Ralph stood up and walked over to Felix.

"No hammer?"

"They took it," said Felix.

"Who's Ainsworth?"

"I couldn't tell you, but he sounds like the sort who'd give anyone the creeps."

"I haven't seen him yet," said Ralph, "But I will."

"You be careful now," said Felix. "Don't go doing anything hasty."

Ralph didn't reply. He instead turned away and headed straight for the game's exit.

_How'd these guys get past Surge?_ Ralph wondered as he headed through the wire.

He soon had his answer, at least in part. When he exited the wire, the Surge Protector failed to materialize.

"Hey, that's not right," he said to himself. "He should be here to make sure things are safe…"

His voice trailed off as he realized what he was saying.

_Maybe I _have_ been unfair to the guy. The checks might be annoying, but he's just doing his job. I wonder where he is…_

"He's still in there," said a voice to Ralph's left. "He just can't appear right now."

Ralph recognized the voice as that of Portia. He turned towards the leader of SANG. His eyes widened.

"You're a kid?"

Portia pulled a pair of dice from her suit pocket. She allowed them to hover above the palm of her hand.

"Not just any kid."

"Of course not," Ralph replied. "You brought these freaks here from…wherever you said it was."

"The internet," said Portia. The dice dropped back into her hand, and she placed them back into her pocket.

"I've only heard of it once or twice," said Ralph. "Never seen it. Though if _you_ come from there, it can't be all that great."

"Speak no ill of what you know nothing about!" Portia snapped. Her expression hardened, and then relaxed again.

"I'll have to forgive your remark," she said. "I forget you're not intelligent enough to appreciate the world I live in."

"Not intelligent enough…?" Ralph raised a massive fist.

"Think before you act!" Portia cried. "One wrong move and I'll kill you."

"You? Kill me?"

Portia raised both her arms. Slowly, steadily, Ralph felt himself rise into the air.

"Wha…?"

"You're heavier than most," said Portia. "But if we were high up, outside your own game, my dropping you might still kill you." She lowered her arms, setting Ralph back on his feet.

"So, you can drop your fist now."

Ralph did so.

"That's better," said Portia. "Now, unless you've got something to ask me, I'd suggest you go about your business."

"I've got a question," said Ralph. "Where's this Ainsworth guy?"

"Why do you want to see him?"

"Why do you need to know?"

"I'm in charge, I've a right to know," sad Portia. "I'd suggest you learn your place Ralph, before I have to force it through your thick skull."

"Hey, how do you even know who I am?"

"I googled your game," Portia replied. "Now answer my question. Why do you want to see Mr. Ainsworth?"

"I reckon I could ask him that question myself."

Ralph turned to see a brown and grey-garbed western character standing on the opposite side of the wire entrance from Portia.

"You need something, partner?"

"Yep," said Ralph. "I'm going into _Sugar Rush_. Figured you should know."

"I'm afraid I can't allow that," Mr. Ainsworth replied. "Nobody goes in or out without my permission unless they're a member of SANG. I can take a letter if you like, though I should warn you that the war department is censoring the mail."

"What are you doing in there?" Ralph demanded.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

Ralph raised both fists this time. Again, he felt himself lifted into the air by an invisible force.

"This is your last warning Ralph," said Portia. "Don't try anymore sudden moves." She lowered him to the ground again.

"Speaking of suddenness," said Mr. Ainsworth, "nobody told me characters in an E-rated kids' game could bleed."

Ralph glared at him.

"Oh, don't worry," said Mr. Ainsworth. "Nobody's dead yet. We're all getting along just fine. Except for that stupid princess."

"Vanellope?" Ralph's tone must have betrayed some of his anxiety, for upon hearing him speak, Mr. Ainsworth gave him a curious look.

"Ah, you know her?" Mr. Ainsworth replied. "I'll tell her you said howdy then. Though between you and me, I don't know how she'll react. I think she's going crazy. Been talking to herself, thinking there's some confectionery monarch in the room." Seeing that Ralph was glaring again, Mr. Ainsworth smirked.

"You go have fun wrecking your building," he said.

"One of these days," said Ralph, "I'm going to wreck _you_."

At this, Mr. Ainsworth just laughed.

"You're dismissed, Ralph," said Portia, waving the wrecker onward. Fuming, Ralph continued towards the middle of Game Central Station, Mr. Ainsworth's mocking laughter still ringing in his ears. His mind was so occupied he didn't realize Sergeant Calhoun was in front of him until he bumped into her.

"Watch where you step," said Calhoun, "or I'll- oh, it's you Ralph."

"Hey, sergeant," said Ralph. "What'd they do in _Hero's Duty_?"

"We had a rough fight," Calhoun replied. "We're all still alive though. Where's Felix?"

"In the game still," said Ralph. "Hammerless, but unharmed."

"They took the hammer, eh? These boys know their stuff too well."

"We've got to drive them out," said Ralph. "We've got just one month."

Calhoun put a finger to her lips. She gestured beyond the crowd of arcade characters toward several members of SANG, who stood against the walls of Game Central Station.

"They're watching- like a vigilant rooster, they're watching." She lowered her hand. "I'll get back with you later. But not here."

Ralph nodded in understanding.

"I think I'll go check in with the Bad-Anon crew," he said.

"And I'll pay a visit to your game," Calhoun replied. "Dismissed, soldier."

Out of habit, Ralph saluted.

_Always the way with her_ he thought to himself as he walked on. _Even in the midst of a crisis, she still treats me like I'm one of her marines. _

_Even in the midst of a crisis…I hope she's got a plan to get out of this one._


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

**Repairs**

Albert Rae had intended to kick-off his retirement with a nostalgic vacation, which is why he'd arranged to visit his childhood home. Not that Wilberforce, Kansas was among the most notable cities in the United States- except, perhaps, among gamers.

_Scratch that- among non-gamers too. One doesn't own one the most successful arcades in the nation without the town you're in getting _some _sort of recognition. There's a reason _The Art of the Arcade_ ended up passing through this place._

But the non-gamers' interest usually consisted of little more than a passing acknowledgment of the historic value of Litwak's Arcade. It wasn't that they hated gaming -though there were always some who did- so much as they just weren't all that interested.

_Different strokes for different folks I guess. But me- I _am _interested. I've been a videogame developer all these years for a reason. Now, if only I could have seen the old arcade again. Instead, I find him an invalid. _

He scratched his chin.

_What a way to meet your best friend again after ten years. _

He glanced about the living room of Mr. Litwak's home, at which he had just arrived mere moments before. The arcade owner was resting in one of his chairs, his face a blend of disappointment and happiness. It was a strange combination to witness.

"I'm sorry I couldn't give you a better welcome," said Mr. Litwak. "I'd take you down to the old place but, well…you know."

Albert _did_ know. Stan Litwak's heart attack, his release from the hospital, and the temporary closure of the arcade, were all big events for a small city like Wilberforce. When he'd stepped off the airplane Albert hadn't gone more than twelve paces past the terminal entrance before he'd overheard people discussing the news. Not long afterwards, he'd seen a newspaper stand with the front page discussing the storyline. It had apparently been a week, and Mr. Litwak had been discharged the day before, so he could rest and recover at home. Albert had headed straight for Mr. Litwak's home.

"But why a month?" Albert asked him. "What exactly happened? The papers were unclear."

"I haven't let the word out yet," said Mr. Litwak. "But I can trust you to keep it to yourself. Every single screen- busted. Won't turn on."

"Every one?"

"And the surge protector got fried somehow. It's still working as a power strip, but it won't block voltage spikes until we can get it repaired."

"I guess I'd better get down there and have a look at things, then," said Albert. "You got a key to the place on you?"

"I couldn't ask you to do that-" Mr. Litwak began, but Albert cut him off with a raised hand.

"I'm not taking no for an answer," he said. "I'm going to fix that surge protector. As for the games, I can at least see if I can deduce what the problem is. This stuff's my forte."

"All right, have it your way" said Mr. Litwak, smiling. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the keys to the arcade, and handed them to Albert. "You see what you can do. When you're back, we'll work out the payment."

"I'm set for retirement, Stan," Albert replied. "You don't need to pay me this time. Consider it a favor to an old friend."

"Now really, Albert," said Mr. Litwak. "I couldn't possibly allow that."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, you can buy me lunch," said Albert.

Mr. Litwak sighed. "Fine, I give up."

"That's better," said Albert. He headed for the door.

Four hours later, he was back.

"How did it go?" Mr. Litwak asked him.

"I replaced the damaged parts of the power strip," said Albert. "So it should be fine now. But the games-"

"What happened?"

"It's a rather unusual case. I'm not sure how to explain it."

"Are you sure whatever hit the surge protector didn't hit the games?"

"Positive. But there was something else."

"What?"

"A miniscule tweak in the coding. The same one over and over again. It should have been simple to fix, but every time I undid it on one game, it came back a few minutes later, when I'd already moved onto the next. It was almost as if the machines didn't want to be fixed…as if they had a mind of their own."

Mr. Litwak blinked incredulously. "What are you saying?"

"I'm not really sure," said Albert. "But one thing I know- none of the screens will turn on. If Daniel can't fix them when he gets back…"

Mr. Litwak sighed.

"I know Albert. I know."

* * *

Inside the walls of the power strip, Surge blinked and opened his eyes.

_Wait. How am I blinking?_

He held up a hand and gazed upon it. It was pale, ghostly in color, almost wispy thin- but it was definitely there.

_What happened? One week of nothing but exhaustion, of watching these bullies, listening to them…_

He stood up. He felt restored. He couldn't assume his human-form fully, but the power was flowing into him. In a few days, he would be able to rematerialize in full.

_But I can already move about...wait! _

He paused, listening, as that straw-haired girl approached the wall. Beside her was one of the snowmen.

"The parts were replaced, you say?" she said to the snowman.

"Yes, Madame President," the snowman replied. "Should we have Ainsworth fry it again?"

"Before he does that, I want to see if the surge protector comes back. I won't have him rematerializing. Then again, merely putting in replacement parts might not let him do that instantly."

"But what if it does?"

"We still need some power so long as we stay in this wretched cesspit; take out the power and _we_ might be at risk. I won't fry the power strip directly again unless I have no other choice. Just be on the lookout for Old Surge. If he turns up, we'll settle him as easily as we did before."

_Not likely_ Surge thought. _Because if everything goes my way this time, you won't even know my form's returning until I've made my plans. _

_But what to do? Who to make plans with? Aha! I know just who. It's an alliance I'd never have imagined I'd make, but as they say, the enemy of my enemy is my friend._

Slowly, carefully, Surge dematerialized, allowing the particles of his body to float towards his destination…


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

**A Deal with Dr. Despair**

"Nearly a week and you've got nothing?"

"How can I Ralph, when those guys are watching most places nearly 24/7? I'm on it, but I just don't have anything yet."

Calhoun's reply was low, but tense. Even inside Ralph's house, away from the view of SANG, she feared they were being listened to.

Ralph was about to respond when he saw the dirt floor shift in corner. A small hole opened up and out scuttled a small robot. It consisted of a dome about twelve inches in diameter, with six insect-like legs.

Calhoun instantly reached for her pistol, but stopped when she remembered that it had been confiscated. She and Ralph eyed the robot warily as it came to a stop before them. The robot's red eye flickered, and a small tray at its base slid out, revealing a letter.

"What's this?" said Calhoun. She picked it up and read the message:

_Sergeant,_

_I've just spoken with a mutual acquaintance. We have a plan to free the arcade, but we'll need the help of you and your friends. If you, Ralph, and Felix could arrive at my game as discreetly as possible within the hour, I'll give you more information. Meet me inside the pyramid._

_Destroy this message after reading it. Do not write a reply. My robot will confirm that you have received the message and are coming._

_Dr. Despair._

_P.S: I'm not up to any tricks. I don't trifle with the fate of the arcade._

"Read that," said Calhoun, handing the letter to Ralph.

"He knows us well," said Ralph, when he had finished reading the post-script.

"He knows himself well," said Calhoun. "Under ordinary circumstances, I wouldn't go see him…but these aren't ordinary circumstances."

"The only question is, did he write this?"

Calhoun looked thoughtful.

"No, I don't think SANG wrote this," she said at last. "SANG hasn't bothered talking with us much; they can't know what makes him tick."

"Should we go?" Ralph asked. "Who is this 'mutual acquaintance'?"

"There's only one way to find out," said Calhoun. She nodded to the robot.

"We're going."

The robot scuttled back into the hole, piling the dirt over it as it left.

"I still don't fully trust him," said Ralph.

"Neither do I," said Calhoun, dropping the message onto the burning logs in the fireplace. "But who says we won't be on our guard?"

* * *

Approximately fifty-five minutes later, Ralph, Felix, and Calhoun found themselves within the entrance hall of the pyramid in _Clash of Chaos 2_. They had all had to enter the game at different times, at irregularly spaced intervals, in order to seem as low key as possible. So far, no members of SANG had asked any questions.

The entrance hall was a rectangular room with hieroglyphics covering the walls. At the far end opposite the door was a downward sloping tunnel filled with booby traps which led to the secret chamber where the Amulet of Ra was located. Dr. Despair was waiting for them by the opening of the tunnel. He beckoned for them to approach, which they did, all senses on alert.

"We can speak freely here," said the doctor. "But quietly. And quickly. Stay too long and they'll start to get suspicious."

"So, we came," said Sergeant Calhoun. "What did you have in mind?"

"Perhaps I should start the explanations," said a monotone voice. Moments later, a pale green, humanoid shape materialized beside them. Ralph, Felix, and Calhoun started simultaneously.

"I've no time for explain what happened to me," said Surge. "Yes, I'm back. And yes, I've asked Dr. Despair to help. I've an idea, and he has the resources we need to make it work."

"Oh my land, where've you been?" Felix asked him. "How'd these gentlemen get past you? And why aren't you all here?"

"Gentlemen?" Ralph scoffed.

Ignoring Ralph's comment, Surge said to Felix:

"I told you I've not time to explain what happened to me. I can't stay long either. SANG thinks I'm still too powerless to materialize, and the plan depends on them not finding that out until I let them know. So I'll let Dr. Despair explain what we're going to do. I ask you to trust him." He looked meaningfully at all three characters, but especially hard at Ralph.

Ralph sighed. "Alright."

Surge nodded and vanished from sight.

"Alright, let's have it," said Calhoun.

"First of all," said Dr. Despair, "I needed you three here because your collective views are valued by the arcade. If you three agree to trust me -and I have no ill intentions, I assure you-then the rest of the arcade should follow- which is crucial, because we're going to need every character.'

"What Surge has in mind is nothing less than a simultaneous uprising in every game. At noon tomorrow, he'll reveal himself within Game Central Station and draw off as many as members of SANG as he can. When the games are a bit less full of guards, that's when we'll all strike. We'll drive them into Game Central Station, where we'll destroy any that are left."

"That's an awful lot of attacks to manage," said Calhoun. "How'll we ensure they're properly coordinated?"

"I'll be sending robots like the one I sent you to every game, with linked communication devices inside their compartments. You'll be able to reach any game character holding a communicator at any time."

"But how will the other games find out about the plan?" Ralph asked. "Oh wait- more robots, right?"

"Exactly," said Dr. Despair. "They'll receive instructions together with their communicators. You three will receive the communicators only, as you already know the plan.'

"However, there's one catch. Mr. Ainsworth has a device that could neutralize the Surge Protector. According to Surge, this device will have to be taken from Ainsworth and kept out of SANG's hands during the uprising in _Sugar Rush_, and it must be taken before he can leave the game with it. Otherwise, everything is lost."

"That's an awfully complicated plan," said Felix. "I don't know if it'll work."

"There's a whole lot that could go wrong," said Ralph.

"Can any of you think of a better one?" said Dr. Despair.

There was no answer.

"I won't let this arcade die," said Dr. Despair in an emphatic tone. "It's my home, it's your home, and it's the home of every one of us. And I'm going to prove to these dastards that it and we have a right to exist."

"I guess I can't argue with that," said Ralph.

"Very good," said Dr. Despair. "Now go, go as inconspicuously as you can. And good luck to you."

He paused, before adding:

"Good luck to us all."


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

**Heartache**

Inside the Fungeon, Vanellope opened her eyes. She'd been lying on her side, face toward the wall, for she had no idea how long. Her nightmares had returned several times, and had been too horrible for words. Her stomach felt empty, as though she hadn't eaten in days.

_Days? _

She stood up, but a woozy feeling overcame her, and she stumbled.

_It's not the cut- that's closed. I haven't eaten in…how long?_

She remembered the hallucination, remembered crying herself into a nightmare-ridden sleep afterwards. The rest felt hazy, as though everything were one horrible nightmare from which she couldn't wake up, with the actual nightmares being dreams within dreams.

A noise to her left caught her attention. Turning her head, Vanellope saw one of the stones of the floor crumble and break apart. A six-legged, dome-shaped robot crawled out, scuttling across the stone floor towards the spot where she was kneeling.

Curious, Vanellope turned fully, allowing the robot to come to a stop before her.

"What are you?"

A slot opened at the base of the robot's body, revealing a message scrawled on a sheet of paper. Vanellope took the paper and silently read the following:

_Vanellope,_

_We overheard talk among members of SANG that you'd been thrown in a cell, so we borrowed this robot from Dr. Despair to send you a message._

_I can't reveal what, when, how, or with whom, but Ralph, Felix, and I are helping with a plan to free the arcade. Keep the news to yourself, but don't lose heart. We haven't forgotten you. _

_I can't tell you any more other than that when the plan begins, you should be able to tell it's started before too long._

_Send this message back with the robot. We wouldn't want it found on your person._

_Stay tough,_

_Sergeant Calhoun_

Vanellope set the message back into the slot, which then closed. The robot scuttled back towards the hole.

"Wait."

At the sound of Vanellope's voice, the robot paused, and turned around.

"You're Dr. Despair's robot?"

The robot's red eye flickered.

"What am I saying? You must be."

The robot's eye flickered again.

"I…I…tell him thanks, for lending you. And tell my friends…thank you."

The robot scuttled back into the hole, pulling the bits of broken stone down around the opeing as it went. Within moments, the hole was plugged once more. Vanellope smoothed the bits of rubble over until it was smooth once more, and then returned to the spot where she had formerly been lying. She allowed a slight smile to creep over her features.

Five minutes later, she heard the door being unlocked. The smile vanished instantly as it swung open, revealing Mr. Ainsworth.

"Play time's up," he said, entering the cell. "Time to come along."

Vanellope remained silent.

"Ah, it's hard work, having to dart from game to game, shutting down game screens all over again every time someone tries to fix them. Fortunately, _Hero's Duty_ has hoverboards to speed things up."

"You're quiet," he added, standing over Vanellope and gazing down at her curiously.

Vanellope rose to her feet.

"Defiant?"

"Yeah!" Vanellope snapped. "When they've…we've…I've…settled your hash…"

She stopped.

_Don't let the secret out!_

"You won't be settling anyone's hash, little lady," said Mr. Ainsworth. His eyes seemed to roam about the cell for several moments. Their gaze passed over the spot where the hole had recently been resealed, before returning to Vanellope.

"Play time's up," he said. He grabbed her by the throat and hauled her bodily from the cell.

"Let go!" Vanellope gasped as the mercenary carried her up the stairs and then down the hallway. "You're hurting me!"

"You think I care?" said Mr. Ainsworth. "I've got something else on my mind. Something else I'd better ask you about."

He reached the end of the hallway and opened the door, revealing the interior of the castle's main garage.

"There're a whole lot of karts in here," said Mr. Ainsworth, passing the rows of vehicles. "But there's one in particular I found amusing. Funniest thing I've seen yet in this place."

He came to a stop beside a kart that was resting some distance from the others, in a slot all its own.

My _kart_ Vanellope realized. _The one Ralph and I made. Please don't let him break it, please don't let him break it…_

Mr. Ainsworth set her down on her feet a short distance from the kart.

"I saw a label on the side," he continued. "Made by Vanellope and Ralph."

He snickered.

"You're friends with Wreck-It Ralph?"

"You bet I am!" Vanellope cried.

"With that clod?"

"He's better than you by a mile!"

"Hah, probably," said Mr. Ainsworth. He stopped laughing. "So, if you don't want me to kill him, why don't you tell me who 'we' are?"

Vanellope felt a chill run up her spine.

"Wha…I don't…"

"Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about," said Mr. Ainsworth. "You think I'm stupid? You almost let something slip back there. Someone's plotting to stop my employer, and I think you just found out whom."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do," Mr. Ainsworth replied, drawing his bowie knife. "So unless you want me to kill Ralph, I reckon you'd better confess. And you _know_ I'd kill him."

He lunged at her. Vanellope shrieked and glitched out of the way, only to bump into a stack of barrels and fall onto her back. Mr. Ainsworth was upon her in an instant.

"I'm not joking anymore," said Mr. Ainsworth. "Tell me everything you know, or I'm going to carve out your friend's innards!" He pressed the edge of the knife against Vanellope's throat.

"No, don't…don't do that…"

"Are you going to talk?"

"I shouldn't…"

"Talk, you brat!"

"Fine, fine!" Vanellope cried. "Ralph, Felix, Calhoun, and Dr. Despair."

"Are those the only names you know?"

"Please, I swear that's all I know!"

"Hah, you break too easily." Mr. Ainsworth pulled the knife away and stood up.

Vanellope stood up, rubbing her neck. And then the full impact of what she had said sank in. Tears filled her eyes.

"Oh, what have I done?"

"You've made a bargain," said Mr. Ainsworth. "You have my word of honor that I will not kill Ralph."

"He'll kill _me_."

"I won't let him," said Mr. Ainsworth. He removed a small device from his satchel, consisting of a block box with a button. Before Vanellope could blink, he had pressed the button. The loud sound of an explosion filled the garage, and she covered her ears. There was the sound of crackling flames and the smell of smoke. She looked up to see her kart wreathed in fire and smoke.

"Oh…please…why…_no_!" she cried. "How could you?"

"I never said I'd spare the kart. It wasn't part of the bargain."

Vanellope dropped to her knees, sobbing brokenly.

"And just so you'll know," Mr. Ainsworth added, clearly enjoying the taste of every word he was saying, "I paid a little visit to the code room this morning, and a bit of an error occurred. So I'm afraid the kart won't be regenerating."

Vanellope continued crying.

"Hey, cheer up," said Mr. Ainsworth. "Remember, I'm going to keep my word. Ralph will not die at my hand."

Vanellope turned her tear-stained face towards the mercenary.

"I hate you."

"Never hate a man for just being himself," said Mr. Ainsworth. "It isn't right."

The kart was already turning into a sugary sludge. Vanellope's eyes were rooted to the awful sight.

"This isn't happening," she whispered. "I'm going to wake up and find this was all another nightmare…"

"It's no nightmare, dearie. It's reality."

Vanellope began to cry again. She lowered her head, unable to look any more.

"Already half ash," said Mr. Ainsworth. He whistled, and four vikings entered the garage through a side door.

"You," said Mr. Ainsworth, gesturing at two of the vikings. "Make sure this fire doesn't spread. When the kart's finished melting, take the ashes and let them sink to the bottom of the swamp." He turned to the other two vikings, tossing one of them a set of keys.

"You boys take my friend here back to her play pen. I'll get the keys off of you when I'm back."

The latter pair of vikings seized Vanellope by the arms, lifting her into the air. Mr. Ainsworth raised her chin with one finger.

"My word of honor," he said. "Ralph will not die at my hand."

He withdrew his finger and backed away.

"But I can't answer for what Portia will do."

As he headed for the nearest door, shaking with silent laughter, the vikings carried Vanellope in the opposite direction, back towards the door to the dungeons. She caught one last glimpse of the flames. The kart was already gone, gone forever. The fire had seared a hole in her heart that would never be totally filled again.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

**Expiation**

The first thing Dr. Despair heard was the gunfire.

_What? So soon? I only just sent out the robots an hour ago._

From his spot inside the Pyramid entrance hall, he couldn't see what was happening, so he turned towards the exit, intending to go and investigate. Before he had taken two steps, the pale form of the Surge Protector materialized beside him.

"They're onto you," said Surge. "How, I don't know, but they're onto you."

"And you?" Dr. Despair asked.

"The only names they know are yours, Ralph, Calhoun, and Felix. They've already nabbed the latter three, and now they're coming here. I'd have come sooner, but I only just found out."

"Blast it all!" said Dr. Despair. "Then the plan's ruined."

"We've still got one chance," said Surge. "From what I overheard, they seem to think you're the brains, and that Ralph, Calhoun, and Felix are your pawns. Keep it that way, and don't tell them anything else, about the communicators, about me, or anything else. If you guys can resist any pressure to talk, we might still pull this off."

"Alright," said Dr. Despair. "Go." The Surge Protector vanished, and Dr. Despair headed for the door.

The view from outside the pyramid was horrific. A great number of vikings and snowmen were swarming the doctor's robotic henchmen, savagely hacking and pulling them apart faster than they could retaliate. The townspeople were pinned down in various corners of the game, fighting desperately with weapons they had seized from fallen SANG agents.

_By the developers, they've launched quite the savage attack. But if…wait, why aren't the robots regenerating?_

It was only too true. The ranks of his army of robots were thinning dramatically. At the rate things were going, they would be gone in minutes.

A noise to his left distracted him from the fight. Turning, he saw Lady Claudia running towards him, a broken sword in one hand and a rifle in the other.

"Get back!" she shouted. "It's coming!"

"What's coming?"

One of the gigantic spiders emerged from behind the town center, its fangs twitching. It scuttled towards the sand dunes, heading straight for the pyramid. Lady Claudia halted, tossed the broken sword aside, and then turned and fired the rifle. Red laser beams streaked out of its tip, blinding the spider in one eye. Furious, the arachnid charged again. Several more laser blasts sent it sprawling into the dunes to rise no more.

"Good shots," said Dr. Despair, starting towards Lady Claudia. "Now there should be just two of those things left."

"The only question is," Claudia began, "where are-"

She never got to finish. A large, eight-legged form darted out from behind the pyramid, seizing her in its jaws.

Dr. Despair had seen enough. The robotic henchmen were long gone. Even the townspeople were now falling before the weapons of SANG. Before long, he would be standing alone.

With outward calm, he approached the spider. Grabbing its leg, he prepared to fire an energy pulse into its body that would kill it. But the pulse never came.

"Disabled," he muttered. "They must have hacked the code. No defense, and no way of saving this game."

The spider had finished consuming Lady Claudia. It now turned its attention to Dr. Despair. Its leg shifted, sending the villain hurtling backwards across the sand.

Climbing to his feet, Dr. Despair saw the rifle Claudia had been carrying lying on a dune a short distance away.

_She dropped it. How convenient. If I can just reach it…_

The spider had already started crawling towards him. Allowing it to catch sight of him, Dr. Despair led it in a wide arc away from the dune, and then doubled back. As the confused spider, started to turn about, he reached the dune. Seizing the rifle, he fired several blasts at the spider, killing it.

Breathing heavily, Dr. Despair turned around. Between him and the path to the game's exit stood the every viking and snowman that was still standing. At their head, there stood Portia and Mr. Ainsworth.

"The last one standing," said Portia, clapping slowly. "And the only one we need to keep alive…for the moment."

She gestured, and the rifle flew out of Dr. Despair's grip into her own.

"Thank you," she said.

"So I'm all that's left," said Dr. Despair. "How did you manage that?"

"I had a look at the characters' codes," said Mr. Ainsworth. "Every one other than you was altered in some way- altered duplicates, I wagered, from how they were behaving. You made copies and killed the originals?"

"It was necessary," said Dr. Despair.

"That's not my concern," said Mr. Ainsworth. "The point is that your alterations to make them more compliant made things such that resetting the game would render them foreign objects, as it were."

"Clever," said Dr. Despair. "I admit I didn't see that coming."

"But you should have seen _this_ coming," said Portia. "You're under arrest for plotting against us."

"I did see _that_ coming," said Dr. Despair.

* * *

The SANG Agents brought Dr. Despair to one of the secondary garages beneath the _Sugar Rush_ castle. They had cleared the rear part of the garage, and had blocked it off with an energy shield. They momentarily deactivated this in order to shove the doctor behind it, before turning it on again.

"The president'll be back to deal with you soon enough," said one of the guards. "Until then, you stay here."

When the guards had left Dr. Despair turned. He was not alone. Felix, Calhoun, and Ralph were also in the same area. Ralph had a large metal pipe bent around his body, pinning his arms to his sides. The others were unrestrained

"It's _your_ strength she fears," said Dr. Despair. "Savvy girl."

"You sound like you admire her," said Ralph.

"I respect the talent of anyone who can outwit me," said Dr. Despair. "But I don't necessarily like _them_."

He dusted sand from his clothes.

"Did any of you tell them anything?"

"They haven't asked anything yet," said Calhoun. "They just surprised us individually and brought us here."

"Mercifully, they only know about us four. Keep it that way until noon and our mutual acquaintance says he can still pull the plan off."

"That's good," said Felix. "But I hope I don't snap under pressure."

"Keep your courage," Dr. Despair replied. "By the way, how _did_ they find out about us?"

Ralph nodded towards a darkened corner.

"Maybe you should ask her."

Dr. Despair turned to see what Ralph had indicated.

"Vanellope?"

She was sitting cross-legged in the corner, her head down.

_I hadn't noticed her before._

"That letter," said Dr. Despair. "They found out about that letter."

Vanellope raised her head. She didn't say a word; she simply stared at him with a semi-vacant look in her eyes. So wounded, so broken did she look, that Dr. Despair could not help but feel a pang of sympathy.

"What did they do?" he asked.

"They made you look like a man who organizes a family picnic," said Calhoun. "They've torched her kart, for one thing, and that's just the tip of the iceberg."

At the mention of the kart, Vanellope lowered her head once more.

"Like a man who-" Dr. Despair snorted. "I'm not that bad. I'm not."

Ralph laughed bitterly.

"You're right," he said. "You're not _that_ bad. But what do you know about pain, about loss? Have ever you felt like half your world was taken away?"

"Yes," Dr. Despair snapped. "I have."

Vanellope raised her head again.

"My game is through," said Dr. Despair. "Finished, gone. Every last character was destroyed except for me."

"Those weren't the originals," said Ralph. "Those were just servile clones."

"With lives of their own," said Dr. Despair. "Whatever their origin, they were my coworkers, same as anyone else. And now they're gone."

Ralph seemed genuinely taken aback by the vehemence of the doctor's response.

"I didn't know-"

"-that I cared?" Dr. Despair said, finishing for him. "I do what I have to do to preserve this world, and it's a thankless task. It's especially difficult when so much of what I have to do cuts me to the heart." He looked meaningfully at Vanellope. The racer's eyes met his.

"You never had to torture me," she said. "You never had to make that clone take over my game."

"At the time, all those things were necessary."

"But they weren't right!"

Dr. Despair sighed.

"I know that," he said. "I've always known that."

They had reached an impasse; there was nothing more to say. Silence descended upon the garage.

None of them were sure how much time had passed when the shield was deactivated once more. But as soon as it was down, all five characters knew that matters were coming to a head.

"Time to begin," said Portia, as several SANG Agents prodded the captives into a line. She adjusted her kepi, and then signaled to the agent nearest Vanellope. The agent, a snowman, seized the surprised racer and tossed her towards a pair of aliens that were standing next to Portia.

"Hey!" Ralph exclaimed. "Bring her back here."

"I'm afraid she has to die," said Portia. "Unless one of you four is willing to perish in her stead?"

Dr. Despair frowned. _So _that's_ her game. And I know exactly who's going to step forward first- ah, he's already moving!_

Before Ralph could take another step, Dr. Despair placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You're of more use to her alive," he said quietly. Before Ralph could reply, he moved towards Portia.

"You?" said Portia. "I confess I'm surprised, but I accept."

Ignoring her, Dr. Despair turned towards Vanellope, who looked both pained and confused.

"I didn't act before," he said. "Shall I stand on the sidelines now?"

"You're not saving anyone," said Portia. "She might not be killed, but there are fates worse than death."

Dr. Despair looked at the president of SANG

"You have much to learn," he said bluntly. He turned back to Vanellope and tipped his hat.

"Farewell, my bravest foe."

Portia had taken a sword from a nearby guard and had lifted it into the air via telekinesis. With a twitch of her arm, she plunged it into Dr. Despair's chest. The doctor felt the cold steel pass through his heart.

_The right thing to do…I could still do the right thing…and help the arcade…no, the plan might still fail. But…perhaps I'm…free? Free…that word…so strange in this context…_

He fell backwards into the arms of a viking, his sight dimming.

_Free of having…to do what I must…I can do what's right…I did what was right…no more regrets…do they know that? Does _she_ know that? Yes, she must…she's a good kid…a brave kid…_

* * *

From her spot in the arms of the aliens, Vanellope saw Dr. Despair breath his last. At a gesture from Portia, the viking carried his corpse out of the garage.

"That's that," said Portia. "The preliminaries are over. We'll be back later, for the rest of your punishment." The aliens shoved Vanellope back towards Ralph, Felix, and Calhoun, and then Portia and the guards left the garage, leaving the energy shield turned on behind them.

Felix blinked. "Why did he do that? I never thought he would do _anything_ like that."

"Well, said Calhoun, "I guess there was a bit more to him than we thought."

"Maybe so," said Ralph. "But would he have showed any goodness, had things been different?"

"I…don't…know," Vanellope said slowly, turning over the question in her mind. "But…I'd like to think the answer…is yes."

"We can't know," said Calhoun. "But I think we can agree he died well."

"We're probably all going to die too, you know," said Vanellope.

"Maybe not," said Ralph.

"What do you mean?"

He smiled. "Wait until noon. Then you'll find out."


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter Thirty**

**To the Rescue**

"Twenty minutes until noon," said Rancis. "Then we make our move."

He, Wynchel, Duncan, Sour Bill, Otis and Floyd, and the other racers were all gathered inside the cavernous interior of Diet Cola Mountain. With most of SANG's attention focused on the castle at the moment, they had seized their chance to congregate there. The chance always remained that they would be discovered, hence why a number of the fans were posted as guards near the secret entrance, in case they had to make a hasty retreat across the half-completed track within and through the other exit.

_Assuming they don't block that one off either_, Rancis thought to himself. He drew the communication device from his pocket.

"This is our means of coordination with the others," he said. "We can't lose it or the game's up. Now, do you all know what to do?"

Everyone present nodded.

"Good. Any questions?"

Candlehead raised her hand.

"Yes?"

"What if they take the electric thingy with them when they run out into Game Central Station?"

"From what we've seen of Ainsworth, I don't think he's going to let anyone else take it. And he's not leaving here unless he absolutely has to."

"We did get the weapons, didn't we?" Taffyta asked. Otis floated towards a brown sack.

"Floyd and I have been stockpiling whatever we could steal. I thought we went through this already."

"Right, right, of course," said Taffyta. "It's just…what if this doesn't work?"

"Then we're all dead, kid," said Floyd. "Kaput."

"Right, then," said Rancis. "Arm yourselves. We move out in fifteen minutes."

* * *

"I'm not against torturing them," said Portia, gazing across the drawbridge from outside the gates. "If you really, honestly think they're might be more to their plan, I'll try it. But I don't think they're smart enough to utilize anything sophisticated like a robot squadron or a in such an intricate way."

"Don't expect me to believe your stupid propaganda," said Mr. Ainsworth. "These characters are dangerous. Did you see all that technology we found in Dr. Despair's lair? Anyone who can make that is a threat to you."

"And he's dead," said Portia. "He was the exception to the rule. I'd hoped these other three might have shown his smarts, provided we could get them onto our side, but it seems they're neither intelligent nor sensible. No, there's nothing more we can do with them except kill them."

"Then you're a fool," said Mr. Ainsworth, "which is why I've bugged the garage. I'm going to check the recordings and if-"

A loud bang echoed through the wire that led to Game Central Station, drowning out the rest of his words. The communicator on Portia's wrist beeped wildly. She switched it on.

"Yes?" she said.

"Madame President," said the voice of Bruce, "you'd better get out here. Something strange is going on. The power strip is acting weirdly. We can't touch the walls without some sort of shock."

"What? Alright, I'm coming. Get everyone we can spare into Game Central Station, and do it fast."

"Are you sure that's smart?" Mr. Ainsworth asked as Portia switched her communicator off. "What if they try something while most of the guards are in the power strip?"

"Then if they want us, they can come to us outside their games," said Portia. "Outside, where they can't regenerate."

"And if they won't come out?"

"Why, then we'll know that none of these characters are redeemable, and we'll have to move up the date of this arcade's Armageddon."

* * *

Inside the garage, the four captives heard muffled noises coming from the direction of Game Central Station.

"What's that?" Vanellope asked.

"That'd be our acquaintance," said Calhoun. "Stand by for the help."

"If they get past _me_," said Mr. Ainsworth, entering the garage.

Vanellope paled and shrank back against the wall.

"A mutual acquaintance, eh?" said Mr. Ainsworth. "Thank the developers for wiretapping. Who is it- no, I can guess already." He patted his satchel.

"Time to shut down Old Surge again- this time, for good!"

A laser blast whizzed past him.

"What in-?" He turned to see Otis and Floyd, each holding a laser rifle.

"Payback time, sucker!" said Floyd.

"So you say," said Ainsworth, drawing his pistols. "I don't take too kindly to folks who steal weapons, as you seem to have done."

Then there came the sound of an engine. The garage wall was smashed open, and a large van came careening in, smashing the controls to the energy shield. As it deactivated, Duncan leaned out of the van's passenger window.

"You're under arrest," he shouted, waving a truncheon.

"Ah, don't make me laugh," said Mr. Ainsworth. Nevertheless, he was visibly nervous. Vanellope in particular noticed this. As the van rolled to a stop, she crept forward cautiously. A kart was off against one side of the wall, and Mr. Ainsworth's back was to it.

She made it to the kart just as Mr. Ainsworth noticed that his captives were moving away from the space where they had been confined.

"Get away from that kart!" he cried.

"Not likely," said Vanellope, leaping into the driver's seat. She turned it on and revved the engine.

"Well, little lady," said Mr. Ainsworth. "I do believe your ending is going to be spectacular."

"So is yours," said a voice behind him. He turned to see Ralph, his fists raised threateningly. Not far behind Ralph stood Duncan, with a chainsaw in his hand and several fragments of pipe on the ground beside him.

"Funny what you don't notice when you're focused on other things," said Mr. Ainsworth, backing towards the wall.

"Goodbye, Ainsworth," said Ralph.

"Goodbye indeed," said Mr. Ainsworth. Without warning, he darted to one side and made a dash for the van, dodging the blow from Ralph's fist.

"Stop him!" Floyd roared. Wynchel, who had exited the van as well, aimed a blow with his truncheon at the fleeing mercenary. Mr. Ainsworth shoved him aside and leaped through the opening in the wall.

"Great, how do we catch him now?" Duncan asked.

Vanellope was already barreling towards the smashed wall in her kart.

"Wait, get back here!" Ralph called. She paid him no heed as she drove past the van and out onto the plains of _Sugar Rush_.

"Wynchel, Duncan, to the van," said Otis. "The rest of you, follow me to the upstairs. The racers should be in the castle by now."

"Who's got the communicator?" Calhoun asked.

"Rancis," said Floyd. "The other attacks should have started by now, so if we can force them towards Game Central Station…"

He paused.

"Where's Doctor Despair? I thought he was in on this?"

"Dead."

"Good riddance, then," said Floyd.

"I wouldn't put it that way," said Calhoun. "Not after how he died."

"Really? What do you mean?"

The police van started to roll backwards out of the opening.

"I'll explain later," said Calhoun. "If there is a later. Ralph, Felix?"

There was no answer.

"Where are they?"

As the police van began to turn, Calhoun, Otis, and Floyd saw Ralph and Felix clinging to its side.

"What are you doing?" Calhoun cried. "Get back here!"

"We're going after Ainsworth!" Ralph called back.

"Stay cool, ma'am, we know what we're doing!" Felix added as the van sped away.

"Oh, great," said Calhoun. "Which way to the racers?"

The sounds of fighting reached their ears from above. Moments later, several aliens were blasted backwards through one of the doors, their lifeless bodies crashing to a halt against a stack of boxes. Rancis emerged after them, a laser rifle in his hands.

"That way," said Calhoun.

"Oh, Sergeant," said Rancis, noticing Calhoun.

"Mr. President?"

"The fans and the Oreos have most of the guards pinned down in the hallways above. Where's Ainsworth?"

"Who knows?" said Floyd. "Last we saw, he had Ralph, Felix, Wynchel, Duncan, and Vanellope on his trail."

"That way," said Calhoun, directing Rancis's attention towards the gaping hole in the wall.

"Oh."

"Have you reached any of the other games?" Calhoun asked.

"A few," said Rancis. "The attacks seem to be going well so far."

"Where are the other racers?"

"Headed for the main garage to get their karts."

"And Sour Bill?"

A muffled roar could be heard, as though a door were being blasted open elsewhere in the castle's lower levels.

"Helping them get the karts," said Rancis, grinning.

"Right then, you boys go to the battle," said Calhoun.

"What about you?" Rancis asked.

"If my husband's going after that sorry excuse for a cowboy, I'd better join him."

"Then take this, said Otis, tossing his laser rifle towards her.

"Thank you," said Calhoun. She offered a brief salute, which Rancis returned. And then she turned and headed straight for the opening in the wall.

_We can't let him get to Game Central Station with that pulse emitter. Now, if I can just find him…_


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter Thirty-One**

**Reckoning**

By the time Portia emerged within Game Central Station, a quarter of SANG's forces were already within, eyeing the walls, floors, and ceilings warily. Spotting Bruce, she headed over towards him.

"What's going on out here?" she demanded. "You said something about the walls shocking people?"

"Something heats up spots of the walls periodically," Bruce replied. "Quick, bursts, not everywhere at once, but where it does occur, we get burned pretty badly."

"Rapid bursts…" Portia muttered. "Rapid materializing and dematerializing…he's back. Get Ainsworth out here now with that weapon of his."

At that moment, Portia's wrist communicator beeped again. She switched it on.

"This is Frosty!" a frantic voice on the other end of the connection shouted. "They've gone psycho, surprising us...weren't expecting…ah, help!"

Portia heard the sound of several vicious blows. "Finish him!" somebody cried. There was a loud snap, and the connection went dead.

"What in the LAN is going on?" Portia exclaimed. She tried another connection, and then another. Nobody answered.

"What is…oh wait, that'd be Ainsworth." She answered the communicator.

"What's going on?" she cried.

"I told you they could coordinate something big," she heard Mr. Ainsworth say, his tone a mixture of smug superiority and intense worry. "Surge is back, and those arcade folks have been stealing weapons under our noses. Now, I'm bringing you the device. I'd recommend we electrify this place to kingdom come and get out while we still can."

"Ainsworth?"

There was no reply. The connection had been cut off.

"If he doesn't get out here…" she said aloud.

Bruce paled. "Game over man, game over!"

"Shut up," Portia snapped. "This isn't the time for memes."

A spark appeared on the floor beneath Bruce's feet. Electrical pulses shot through his frame, disrupting his form repeatedly until it burst apart into atoms. A small, balding, green man appeared where Bruce had been a moment before.

"Surprise," said the Surge Protector. "Oh, it feels good to be at full power again."

Portia leaped atop an electronic display board.

"Mr. Ainsworth, where are you?" she said through gritted teeth.

* * *

As Vanellope steered her kart across the hardened chocolate roads, she heard the police van coming up behind her. She veered to one side, allowing it to pass. As she prepared to drive back onto the road, she felt a sudden weight descend onto the rear of the vehicle. She jerked her head around to see Sergeant Calhoun, rifle in hand.

"Get me to that van," Calhoun ordered.

"Got it," said Vanellope, gunning the engine. She swerved back onto the road, following the line of gumdrops.

"There," said Calhoun, pointing. The van was a short distance ahead. "Pull alongside of it."

Vanellope did as directed. Before Calhoun could leap onto the van's side, however, a lean, poncho-clad form leaped from the top of one of giant gumdrops and landed astride its roof.

"I need a free ride," said Mr. Ainsworth. He fired a pistol at Ralph's hand. Instinctively, Ralph relaxed his grip. Unfortunately, this allowed him to be knocked off of the vehicle when the van veered too close to an especially large gumdrop.

Before Mr. Ainsworth had time to issue another taunt, Felix climbed atop the vehicle's roof. He leaped onto the mercenary's back, grasping him about the neck and knocking him onto his face. Snarling, Mr. Ainsworth reached behind his back and grabbed Felix's leg. He gave a savage tug. Felix, caught off guard, relaxed his grip. Mr. Ainsworth pulled again, and Felix tumbled off of his back. Mr. Ainsworth spun over, climbing to his feet. Felix leaped to his feet as well. Mr. Ainsworth drew his second pistol.

"Any last words?" he said.

A laser blast struck his hand, and he reflexively dropped the gun.

"Touch him again, and you die," said Calhoun, aiming the gun barrel directly at Mr. Ainsworth's head. Felix retrieved the dropped pistol and aimed it at Mr. Ainsworth. Behind him, Duncan, who had overheard the commotion, emerge onto the roof, truncheon in hand.

"Have _you_ got any last words?" Calhoun asked.

Mr. Ainsworth smiled and looked towards the road.

"We're not falling for that trick," said Calhoun. "It's the oldest one-"

Mr. Ainsworth spun about, grabbing the end of her rifle and forcing it away from his head. Felix fired, only for the shot to go awry when the van hit another gumdrop.

"Watch your driving, Wynchel!" Duncan cried as he sat up.

"I'm trying!" Wynchel shouted. "The road's gotten a few potholes since a week ago."

Mr. Ainsworth took the opportunity to remove the pulse emitter from his satchel. While Calhoun and Felix rose to their feet, he threw a switch on its side. A bolt shot out of it, knocking the gun from Calhoun's hand and searing her arm in the process. Before Mr. Ainsworth could fire again, there was a soft thud. He looked past Calhoun to see Vanellope standing on the rearmost portion of the van's roof. She had the gun in her hands.

"Well, well, little lady," said Mr. Ainsworth. "You sure you know how to use one of those things?" He began to turn the switch once again.

At that moment, Vanellope fired. The blast struck the pulse emitter just as it was about to fire a blast. The device burst into flames, and the fire rapidly spread onto Mr. Ainsworth. With a cry, he tumbled from the roof of the van onto the roadside below. Vanellope stared at the weapon in her hands.

"I just pushed a random button…"

"Give me that thing," said Calhoun. She snatched the rifle away from Vanellope.

"You could say thank you," Vanellope said crossly.

"Thank you," said Calhoun, "for not accidently shooting the rest of us."

Before Vanellope could reply, the sound of gunfire reached everyone's ears. The agents of SANG were pulling back towards the wire entrance, pursued by a racers in karts and a horde of angry fans.

"We'll be regrouping in Game Central Station," said Calhoun as the van veered towards the Peppermint Forest. "We've got to meet the other games' characters in the middle and finish the job. With the pulse emitter gone, it's just a matter of time and survival."

Vanellope glitched onto a nearby tree.

"Where are you going?" Felix called after her.

"I've got to find Ralph!" she replied, leaping further into the trees.

"At least she can't die in here," Calhoun muttered.

"You could have shown a little more appreciation," said Duncan. "She technically did just save us."

"By sheer luck," said Calhoun. "Vanellope's never handled a gun in her life."

Duncan blinked. "Oh."

* * *

Vanellope glitched rapidly from tree to tree, heading towards the spot on the chocolate road where she had seen Ralph fall. She wished she hadn't left the kart behind; she was getting tired.

She paused to catch her breath on the lower branches of one of trees above a deep pool of taffy. The sounds of the combat were fading as the battle shifted towards the wire entrance. Here in the forest, all seemed still.

As she prepared to begin her journey once again, she felt a hand close about her leg. With a yelp, Vanellope tumbled from the branch, grasping it with her hands to break her fall.

"Get down here!" a familiar voice snarled from below. Eyes wide with terror, Vanellope looked down. On one of the bottommost branches was Mr. Ainsworth. The mercenary's poncho had been burned clean away. His clothes were charred and torn, and his body was covered in savage burn marks. His eyes glinted with unvarnished rage and hatred.

"Get down here, you wretched brat!"

"No!" Vanellope cried, struggling to haul herself out of his grip. He pulled hard, forcing her to let go of the branch. She landed hard on a rock below. Mr. Ainsworth scrambled out of the tree, drawing his bowie knife.

"I'm going to bathe in your blood!" he shouted, clambering over the slippery rocks. Vanellope glitched frantically onto the hard ground of the forest. She hurried forward, only to stumble over a rock.

Mr. Ainsworth was almost to firmer ground when a large form came barreling towards him. A pair of massive hands lifted him into the air and then smashed him down onto the rocks. The attacker then let go, allowing Mr. Ainsworth's corpse to slide into the taffy pool where it sank out of sight.

"Ralph?" Vanellope said hesitantly, getting to her feet. She turned.

"Nasty business," said Ralph, "but we're rid of him."

Vanellope leaped into his arms. Ralph quietly embraced her.

The sound of distant gunfire from near the wire entrance disturbed the moment. Vanellope glitched out of Ralph's arms.

"Come on Ralph!" she cried, hurrying in the direction of the noises. "There's still a battle to win!"

Ralph ran after her.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter Thirty-Two**

**Battle for the Arcade**

From her perch atop the electronic display, Portia watched helplessly as more of her agents were split into atoms by the energy released via the Surge Protector's rapid movements within the floor. Her telekinesis was useless against him so long as he didn't materialize fully- and he'd never stayed materialized long enough for her to use it against him.

"Where is that blasted mercenary?" she exclaimed.

The sounds of gunfire, blows, and clashing weapons were drawing nearer. Portia glanced towards the nearest wire opening- the entrance to _Hero's Duty_. A squadron of ninjas backed out of the opening. Thirteen marines, some on hoverboards, some on foot, emerged after them, their lasers blasting through the ninjas' ranks. Gazing about the power strip, she saw similar sights at nearly every other wire opening; everywhere, small crowds of SANG Agents were being pushed back into Game Central Station, pursued by angry, weapon-toting arcade characters.

The sound of engines made her turn her head towards the wire that led to _Sugar Rush_. Several karts burst out of the opening, headed straight for her. Turning rapidly, she spotted one of the marines from _Hero's Duty_ nearby, firing his gun from atop a hoverboard. Using her telekinesis, Portia pulled the overboard out from under his feet, sending him topping to the ground. She leapt atop the hoverboard.

"Yes!" she cried. "Now I can move." Steering the board over the heads of the crowd of battling game characters, she raised both hands into the air. Slowly but surely, the electronic display on which she had been standing was torn from the ground and began to rise into the air…

* * *

Ralph and Vanellope emerged from _Sugar Rush_ after the other racers. They were just in time to see Portia hurl the display in their direction. Thinking quickly, Ralph raised his fists. The display shattered against them and bits of metal scattered in every direction.

The next thing Ralph knew, he was being lifted into the air. His windpipe felt constricted; he clutched at his throat.

"Let's see where I can drop you from," said Portia. She lifted Ralph higher.

Suddenly, Ralph felt the invisible grip loosen. He dropped to the ground. Turning about, he saw Vanellope on Portia's back, her arms wrapped around the president's body. Portia's kepi had been knocked off, and she was struggling to stay balanced on the hoverboard. As Ralph rose to his feet, Portia shook her adversary off. Vanellope went hurtling over the edge of the crowd.

"No!" Ralph cried. He pushed his way through the combatants, trying to spot where Vanellope had landed. Before he had gone very far, Rancis's kart sped by. Vanellope was perched atop the rear of the vehicle, somewhat bruised, but otherwise unhurt.

"Wait, where are you going?" Ralph called.

"Come on, Ralphie!" Vanellope cried as she pointed in the direction Ralph had just come from. "She went that way!"

"Hey, wait, come back, I'm going with you!" Ralph hurried after the kart, almost tripping over Calhoun and Felix, who had just reached the edge of the _Sugar Rush_ wire.

"My, but he's in a hurry," said Felix.

"So are we," said Calhoun. "Into the battle, soldier. Show no mercy, for they will show you none."

Both characters charged headlong into the fray, yelling like the furies.

* * *

Rancis steered his kart along the edge of the wall, avoiding the thick of the battle as best he could. Nevertheless, it took every ounce of his skill not to ram into the wall itself in the process. Ahead, he could see Portia's hoverboard, speeding further along the wall. Despite the need for extra-careful driving, they were gaining on her.

A small green form landed in front of the windshield, obscuring his view. It was Carl. The alien secretary held an axe in one hand. Grinning savagely, he swung it at Rancis's head. Rancis ducked and the blade sliced through the windshield. A shard of glass shot across Rancis's cheek, cutting it open.

"Vanellope," Rancis said through gritted teeth. "Get him off!"

Carl swung the axe again. Rancis ducked once more and the blow went wide. Vanellope grabbed Carl's arm with one hand and clutched at the axe handle with the other. Carl kicked at her, knocking her onto her back. Unfortunately for the alien, she kept hold of the axe. The speed of the kart combined with the light weight of the alien caused Carl to lose his grip on the axe. He went sailing over Vanellope's head into the crowd of combatants. Carl wrapped his arms around a thick, cylindrical object, not realizing until it was too late that he was between Zangief's thighs. He didn't even have time to scream before the burly wrestler brought them crashing together, crushing the secretary.

Rancis and Vanellope didn't see the alien's demise; they were too busy chasing after Portia. The president of SANG was leading them a merry chase towards they knew not where. Nor were they to find out, for the sudden appearance of M. Bison in front of her startled Portia and sent her veering sharply off course. She sped off to the right down the nearest wire entrance. Before Bison could follow her, a ninja leaped at him and he was forced to back away from the wire.

"What game is that?" Rancis asked as he sent the kart hurtling towards the entrance.

"I can't catch it," said Vanellope. "You're going too fast. Wait, its-"

"Too late," said Rancis as he sped into the wire.

* * *

Ralph arrived at the wire entrance just as the kart entered. He spared the title above the opening a brief glance.

Lifeguard_? Why would Portia go in there?_

But there was no time to waste, he realized. If that was where the president of SANG was headed, that was where he would go. He hurried into the wire, ignoring the corpses of SANG agents and the bits of broken weaponry as he followed the kart's tire marks.

_I'm not letting those two take her on alone. She's too much even for _me_ to handle. But maybe we'll think of something together._

_We've got to._


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter Thirty-Three**

**Confrontation**

Portia emerged onto the beach in _Lifeguard_, her mind working furiously.

SANG would lose the battle. That much was clear from the moment the forces occupying the various games had emerged once more with their numbers substantially depleted, and outnumbered by the still living, very angry arcade characters. After this, the Surge Protector's attacks had begun to discomfit the remainder of her soldiers such that they could barely land any hits on their foes. She knew they would fight until the last breath, but victory was now out of the question.

_The only thing left is to salvage what I can and get out, so I can meet with the troops I left on the internet. Not much to work with, but I can rebuild a powerbase from there. _

_How did it come to this? How is this possible? How can these degenerates coordinate such an enterprise? _

_Never mind. Next time, I won't show such mercy. Crash and burn, crash and burn- strike quickly, kill, and get out. That will be the best method from now on._

The sound of a kart passing through the wire reached her ears. She steered her board into the air and scanned the environment. Apart from a trio of sharks swimming further out in the bay and numerous corpses of SANG members, the game was completely empty. Glancing downwards, she saw the kart emerge.

_Rancis and Vanellope. So Ainsworth failed to crush that princess into the mud? Well, I guess I'll just have to finish what he began. A little reward for all my pains._

* * *

"_Lifeguard_?" Rancis said aloud as his kart rolled out of the wire. "Why'd she go in here?"

"More importantly," said Vanellope. "Where is she exactly?"

Rancis parked the car parallel to the shoreline, and he and Vanellope stepped onto the sand.

"Just the sharks," said Vanellope, gazing out at the water.

"She was on a hoverboard," said Rancis. "Which means she might be in the- agh!"

He clutched his throat as he was lifted into the air by an invisible grip. Beside him, Vanellope was also being dragged upward.

"That's right," said Portia, halting the racers' descent once they were directly in front of where she was hovering. "I'm in the air."

A metal shield struck Portia full in the side, knocking her from the hoverboard. Startled, she lost her concentration as she struggled vainly to right herself in mid-air. Rancis and Vanellope dropped onto the sand.

"It was my turn to save somebody from her," said Ralph, running across the sand towards the racers.

"Hah, indeed," said Portia, standing up from the point on the sand where she had fallen.

"Hey Vader, why don't you just surrender?" Vanellope suggested, a cheeky grin on her face. Moments later, a large rock was hurling across the sands towards her. Ralph swatted it away, but Vanellope's grin was already gone.

"I think I made her angry."

"You _think_?" said Rancis.

Portia seized the moment to leap astride the hoverboard. She sped out over the bay, laughing with relief. The realization that something was hanging from the board's edge, slowing her speed, made her stop laughing. "Looking down, she saw Vanellope clutching the board. Before she could react, the racer had glitched atop the board. Alarmed, Portia failed to see the dock straight ahead until it was too late. The hoverboard smashed into a wooden piling, sending both girls tumbling onto the pier.

Portia was the first to recover. She leaped into a white speedboat and gunned the engine, steering out into the bay. By the time Vanellope was upright, she was already too far away for the racer to glitch herself aboard. Instead, she made for one of the boats herself. Ralph and Rancis arrived just in time to leap aboard before Vanellope sent the boat hurtling after Portia.

"Ah, you picked the _S. S. Awesome_," said Rancis, peering over the railing at the name on the boat's side. "I approve."

"I didn't see the name," said Vanellope.

"Don't spoil my illusions," said Rancis.

"Less gab, more chasing," said Ralph. "She's headed for that rock pile on the far side of the game."

"Why that way?" Rancis asked aloud.

Moments later, a large rock fragment smashed through the windshield of their boat, narrowly missing Vanellope and Rancis, and striking Ralph full in the chest. Ralph fell backwards, winded.

"Ralph!" Vanellope cried. "Are you okay?"

Ralph groaned. "More or less."

"Stay down," said Rancis. "We'll take her."

"You can't," said Ralph, sitting up. "Not alone."

At that moment, Portia's boat rammed them from the side. The impact sheered the _S. S. Awesome_ in two, knocking Rancis onto the white boat's prow and spilling both Ralph and Vanellope into the water. The two halves of the shattered boat disappeared as it regenerated back at the pier.

Rancis tried to rise to his knees, but he lacked the energy to move. Portia leaned over the windshield of her speedboat, dragging him into the cockpit.

"Good Afternoon," Rancis said weakly. Portia punched him hard in the back. As she prepared to hit him again, she herself was slammed into the windshield from behind.

"No assassinating the president," said Vanellope.

Before Portia could reply, the speedboat struck the rock pile. It splintered apart, throwing all three occupants into the water.

Catching hold of Rancis's collar, Vanellope glitched onto the rocks, dragging the president of _Sugar Rush _up alongside her. Moments later, Ralph arrived at the rock pile, astride the backs of the three sharks.

"Thanks," he said as he climbed onto the rocks.

"No problem, pal," one the sharks said. "Though no offense, but you're heavy."

"I know," said Ralph.

"Meantime, we've got to see where that kid landed," said the shark. "You check here and we'll do a scan of the surrounding area." The three sharks swam away.

"I don't see anything," said Ralph, staring out at the waves. The fragments of the boat had disappeared, it having already regenerated at the pier. The water seemed undisturbed.

At the sound of heavy breathing, Ralph and Vanellope turned, and Rancis twisted his face in the direction the sound was coming from. Portia was half out of the water, trying to pull herself up onto the rocks. She appeared to have been injured by the debris of the boat; one of her shoulders was bleeding profusely from a jagged wound, and her side appeared similarly injured. Before any of them could react, Portia lost her grip and slid into the water.

Vanellope was the closest to the leader of SANG. As Portia sank beneath the surface, Vanellope caught a glimpse of her face. Gone was the haughty, arrogant look. In its place was the frightened expression of a battered child who knew she was about to drown, and could do nothing about it.

Without a word, Vanellope leaped into the water. Ignoring Ralph's pleas for her to stay on the rocks, she dove beneath the surface. Not far below her, Portia was drifting down towards the ocean bottom. Vanellope glitched forward and arrived beside her within moments.

Portia's straw-colored hair was splayed above her head. Her body was motionless. Her sightless eyes were fixed upon a small emblem of carved wood that she held in one partially outstretched hand.

Vanellope watched briefly as the corpse of the president of SANG sank out of sight. She then swam back to the surface. Glitching atop the rock pile, she took in several large drafts of air.

"What were you doing?" Ralph demanded. "You could have drowned."

The half-dazed Rancis, unable to summon enough energy to speak, merely gave Vanellope a look of curiosity mingled with relief.

"I tried to…" Vanellope's voice trailed off.

"You couldn't have saved her from herself," said Ralph. "Nobody could have."

"Except herself."

Ralph scratched his chin.

"Maybe you're right. But the chances were pretty low regardless."

They sat silently on the rock pile for several moments.

"We'd probably better get back to Game Central Station," Ralph finally said.

"I'll call the sharks," said Vanellope.


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter Thirty-Four**

**Aftermath**

By the time Ralph, Vanellope, and Rancis had exited _Lifeguard_, the battle for the arcade was over. Every single SANG agent had gone down fighting, and every game and wire -not to mention Game Central Station itself- was strewn with their corpses. Though many were wounded, the arcade characters had to their utter amazement, not lost a single life. Had the bulk of the fighting not taken place within the games themselves, where SANG's members were the only foreign avatars, this might not have been the case. As it was, by the time the combat had shifted to the power strip, most of the invaders had already been killed. Those who remained were too demoralized by the unexpected intelligence of these supposed degenerates, as well as too weakened by their already high casualties, to fight as effectively as they might otherwise have done. On top of this, the attacks of the Surge Protector, combined with the arcade characters' acquisition of SANG weaponry, helped to tilt the balance in favor of SANG's foes almost from the beginning. The grueling four hours that had passed since noon had, in the end, proven a mere countdown to victory for the arcade.

With Vanellope allowing the still woozy Rancis to lean on her arm, Ralph and the two racers proceeded towards the center of the power strip, where the Surge Protector was observing the fallen bodies.

"Ah, Ralph," said Surge, when he had seen the wrecker. "We've won out here."

"And Portia's gone," said Ralph. "So that's taken care of. It was a near thing though."

"With Dr. Despair's death and all." Surge nodded. "Felix just finished telling me."

"I wouldn't have trusted him at all if you hadn't said to," said Ralph.

Surge raised an eyebrow. "You value my word?"

"I…uh…" The words stuck in Ralph's throat.

"It's great to have you back," Vanellope piped in.

"We couldn't have done it without you," Rancis added.

"What I mean to say is-" Ralph began once more, and then stopped.

The Surge Protector looked at him curiously.

"I…uh…missed you," Ralph said at last.

A slight smile crept over Surge's face. Slender as it was, once noticed, no observer could mistake it for anything but a sign of pleasure.

"I missed you too," he replied. "Now, we'd probably better get something done about all these bodies."

* * *

Night found Vanellope unable to sleep. The events of the past week had been so overwhelming in their impact and intensity that she was still hardwired to fear even the slightest abrupt noise. Throughout the evening, she'd done little talking, and much flinching at sounds. When the other arcade characters had begun to cremate the bodies of the SANG agents, she had been unable to watch the flames for longer than three seconds before she began to feel overwhelmed by bitter memories of every humiliation, every agony. She lay in bed with her eyes wide open, staring blankly into space.

_Who knew winning could be so…painful?_

She tried to close her eyes again, but the fire filled her mind once again. Again, she saw the kart melting into sludge, felt all the shame of betraying her friends, all the revulsion towards that sadistic Mr. Ainsworth, re-lived all the humiliation and torment. All of these experiences were encapsulated by that sight of the kart burning to ash, the coup de grace of Mr. Ainsworth's plot to make her life a living hell.

_And he did it. He died, yes, and SANG was stopped. But he beat me. He won. Won at a game I could never play. That I _would_ never play._

"Can I forgive myself?" she said aloud.

"That dependth."

Vanellope sat upright. King Candy was sitting on the corner of the railing at the foot of her bed, his short legs dangling over the edge.

"You again?" said Vanellope.

"You're the one who keepth imagining I'm here," King Candy sputtered. "Don't blame me for your own imagination." He paused, as though considering his own words.

"Okay, maybe you can blame me a little. I think I thcarred you for life."

Vanellope climbed out of bed and strode toward her mirror. King Candy hopped down from the bed and followed after her. Ignoring him, Vanellope stared at her haggard face in the mirror.

"Now that'th not fair," said King Candy. "I can't thtand being give the cold thhoulder."

Vanellope did not reply.

"Or," said King Candy, "Are you thtill feeling all broken-_karted_ over what happened?"

"Shut up!" Vanellope snapped.

"Okay, that one wath tathteleth, I'll admit," said King Candy. "But thtill, the point thtandth- Mr. Ainthworth thucceeded where I never could."

"Shut up!" Vanellope said again. She looked away from the mirror towards the bedroom window and started to cry.

"Oh, none of that pleathe," said King Candy. "No, none of that. Thingth were alwayth tho much more fun when you were tharcathtic, and we could trade inthultth."

Vanellope ignored his words and continued crying.

"Oh fine," said King Candy. He pulled a packet of M&Ms from his pocket and held it out to Vanellope. "Have thom candy."

Vanellope turned back toward him and took the proffered packet with a dubious look. Nevertheless, she ripped it open and began eating. King Candy, for his part, stared at his hand as though he had just handled a worm.

"I'm being nice to the glitch," he said to himself. "Thath the trouble with being a product of thomeone'th imagination. You aren't in control of your own actionth."

"Hmm?" Vanellope turned toward him with her mouth full of M&Ms.

"Nothing, nothing," said King Candy. "You thhould really get thom thleep now, hoo hoo!"

Vanellope swallowed the last of the M&Ms.

"I can't sleep," she said. "I'm too busy hallucinating and thinking you're here."

"I've got to go," said King Candy. "But you can alwayth find me in your memorieth."

He took his cane from the foot of bed, where he had left it, and swung it at Vanellope's head.

"Time to thleep, glitch," he said as the cane struck its target…

* * *

Vanellope sat up, blinking. She felt as though her head had been struck be something hard. She raised one hand to feel her head, only to see an empty M&Ms wrapper in it.

"What in the name of Willy Wonka-?"

She looked around to see that she was on the floor beside her bed. Tossing the wrapper aside, she felt her head. There was a small bump along one side, but nothing she wouldn't survive.

_I fell out of bed, I guess…no wait, that doesn't explain the wrapper…_

"So, you're finally up."

Vanellope jumped to her feet. Ralph was sitting on the floor on the far side of the room, with his back to the bookshelf.

"When did you get in here?" Vanellope asked.

"An hour ago," Ralph replied. "It's eleven-thirty in the morning."

"I couldn't sleep last night…"

"You were pretty well asleep when I first stopped by, at seven-thirty," said Ralph. "But you were looking kind of peaceful...I didn't have the heart to wake you."

"I don't feel too well," said Vanellope. "Too much…"

"Any more nightmares?"

"No. Just thoughts, memories, feelings…"

"If you'll come with me," said Ralph, "There's something I want you to see."

Vanellope opened her wardrobe and took out her racer's garb, selecting a fresh turquoise hoodie to replace the one that had been ruined by Mr. Ainsworth. Moving behind a tall wooden screen, she got dressed, and then re-joined Ralph. The wrecker led her through the hallways, down several flights up steps, and to the door to the main garage.

At the sight of the door, Vanellope hesitated.

"It's okay," said Ralph, holding the door open. "Go on in."

Vanellope stepped over the threshold and into the garage. Her eyes widened in surprise. She stepped forward slowly, taking in the sight that greeted her ten feet from the open door.

A freshly baked kart, of vanilla-based batter, with pink and white icing.

"A different coloring from what the recipe wanted," said Ralph, entering the garage behind her. "The racers and I, and Otis and Floyd- we went down to the bakery earlier this morning and…"

Arriving beside the kart, Vanellope reached out her hand to touch it.

"Look, I know it's not the old kart. Nothing can ever replace the old kart. But…we don't want you to stop racing."

Vanellope turned back to face Ralph. Slowly, she walked towards him. She climbed into his arms, laying her chin on his shoulder. Tears rolled down her cheeks once more.

But this time, they were tears of happiness.


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter Thirty-Five**

**Violating the Program**

On the afternoon of October the 7th, Mr. Litwak and Albert Rae were seated in the former's living room. They had just finished their lunch, and were awaiting word from Daniel. The arcade's resident repairman had arrived back in town two days before, and had learned about the situation before a day had passed. After a conference with Mr. Litwak, it was agreed he would make one final effort to save the games. He had headed down early that morning, and Mr. Litwak was already starting to feel anxious.

"I'd hate to disappoint the patrons," said Mr. Litwak. "They love those games. Why else should they come back?"

"Did you see those stacks of 'get well' cards?" Albert asked.

"Why yes," said Mr. Litwak. "I read every one, even the semi-illegible ones."

"They love the games yes," said Albert. "But they also come back for _you_."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. You and your staff are among the friendliest and most personable workers of any business in Wilberforce. I thought you would have guessed that by now."

Mr. Litwak blinked, surprised. "I figured it was just common courtesy, what I do."

"We're old-school, you and I," Albert replied. "We remember those days of riding bikes to the local comic store, where you knew the names of the owners. You'll still catch hints of that around here, sometimes elsewhere, but across the nation…those days are done."

"I guess I sort of knew that, subconsciously."

The phone rang, and Mr. Litwak stood up and answered it.

"Yes?" he said. "What? Oh- that's great! Thanks a ton. No, thank _you_!"

"What happened?" Albert asked as Mr. Litwak hung up.

"He couldn't save _Clash of Chaos 2_, but every other game is up and working again. We can open tomorrow!"

"How did he do that?" Albert asked, incredulous. "I mean, did you tell him what happened when I tried?"

"I did when we met yesterday," said Mr. Litwak. "He didn't know what to make of it, but he said he'd try anyway. And it worked. We're back in business!" Mr. Litwak spun about, only to stop moments later to catch his breath.

"I…I'm forgetting," he said. "I'm sixty years old. I won't be able to do this for too many more years. I'll have to start grooming a successor."

"What about Johnson?" Albert asked. "He seems a dedicated guy."

"That he is, Albert. That he is. I might choose him, if he sticks around. But the doctor estimated I have about five more years before I need to call it quits. I expect I can get someone in that time." He smiled. "And if it's Johnson, so much the better. He was playing my games as a kid back in the 80s. We go way back."

* * *

Litwak's Arcade re-opened amidst much rejoicing among the gamers of Wilberforce. They poured into the arcade as soon as its doors were open. There were new faces as well, people whose interest had been piqued by _The Art of the Arcade_. So many customers were there that Mr. Litwak was hard pressed to greet every new wave of patrons, and had to recruit one or two of his employees into the act as well.

By the time the arcade closed, Mr. Litwak breathed a sigh, both of relief and contentment: relief that his arcade, his joy, had survived and contentment that so many had partaken of that joy. He watched as the last of his employees departed the building, until only he and Albert were left.

_Albert- the greatest friend in the world. God bless him for staying so long at my side._

"Well, time to close up shop," said Mr. Litwak.

"Not yet, please."

Mr. Litwak froze.

"Was that you who said that, Albert?"

Albert looked equally startled.

"I didn't say anything."

"Then who spoke?"

"Look behind you," said the voice.

Mr. Litwak and Albert turned to see the _Fix-It Felix Jr._ cabinet behind them.

"Bless me, the cabinet's talking," said Mr. Litwak. "I think I need to see the doctor again."

"No, not the cabinet," said the voice. "It's me, Ralph." The wrecker's sprite strode into view and looked at them.

At this, Albert and Mr. Litwak nearly jumped out of their skins.

"I think I might be going senile, Albert," said Mr. Litwak.

"No, please listen," said Ralph. "But first, look around you."

Mr. Litwak and Albert glanced around the arcade, only to yelp in shock. On every screen, the gem characters were busily milling about. Blue lights passed through the wires. Several characters paused to wave through the screens at the arcade owner and his friend.

"Don't be afraid," said Ralph. "You're not going nuts. This is real."

"So those blue lights really were…." Mr. Litwak's voice trailed off.

He listened as Ralph told him of the characters' daily lives, of how they could travel between other games via the wires. When Ralph had finished speaking, Mr. Litwak and Albert were silent.

"That explains some of the weirder things that have happened," said Mr. Litwak after a few moments. "Like Q-Bert popping up in your game for instance."

" #&&*!" came a voice from within _Fix-It Felix Jr._

"It's Q-Bert!" Albert exclaimed with a grin on his face. "Heya buddy, I remember you!"

"$$$%%," Q-Bert replied.

"I never understood what he was saying," Albert muttered.

"But after thirty-seven years," said Mr. Litwak, "why tell us now?"

"Sometimes," said Ralph, "sometimes…things happen. When you're whole world is in danger of being shut down, you start to count your blessings. You've been a good owner, Mr. Litwak. And your friend there was always good to us as well. We all talked it over, and we decided you guys could be trusted with our secret. And we just wanted to say…thanks. Thanks for being there all these years."

"You're…you're welcome," Mr. Litwak said. He turned to go. "Come on Albert."

"Hey, just a stinking minute you two," said a voice from the _Sugar Rush_ cabinet. "Are you really going to go without saying goodbye to your old pals?"

Albert and Mr. Litwak turned towards _Sugar Rush_. Their eyes widened at what they saw.

"I think I'm going to faint, Albert," said Mr. Litwak. "It's Otis and Floyd. It's Otis and Floyd!"

"I see them," said Albert. "I see them, but I don't believe it. I thought you said _Pong_ broke down?"

"We made it out before the cabinet was hauled away," said Otis. "So here we are."

"Living with me!" an excited voice piped in. Vanellope somersaulted into view, grinning broadly.

"We're in the stands with this kid's fans during the cutscenes now," said Floyd, pointing briefly with his handle towards Vanellope. "So don't be surprised if you see us here during gameplay."

"Oh no, I'll be delighted!" Mr. Litwak exclaimed. "Listen, I've got to go now, but I'll see you guys in the morning, all right?"

"Sure thing," said Floyd.

* * *

"Wow," said Albert, when he and Mr. Litwak had entered the car. "I wasn't expecting that. Who'd ever believe us?"

"Nobody," said Mr. Litwak, "which is why you and I are going to keep it to ourselves. Besides, they only wanted us to know."

"Alright, but it'll be hard to restrain myself once I get home this Saturday."

"Let the fear of being seen as crazy keep you quiet," said Mr. Litwak, turning on the engine and pulling out of the parking space.

"That'll do the trick for sure," said Albert.

Both men burst out laughing at this remark. When their laughter had subsided, they smiled.

The smiles stayed on their faces all the way back to the house.

* * *

Ralph strode away from the screen to where Felix had been standing. The handyman patted his magic hammer.

"A good day's work," he said.

"And a fine day of shooting on my part," said Sergeant Calhoun, walking towards them from the wire entrance. "Never expected blasting cybugs would be such a relief."

"You're better suited to it than I am, ma'am," said Felix.

"I hate the things," Ralph muttered.

"Hey guys, hey guys, hey guys!"

It was Vanellope. The little racer was hurrying toward them, glitching excitedly. A large basket was in her hand, a white cloth covering its top.

"What's that," Ralph asked as she halted breathlessly beside them.

"A surprise for everybody here," said Vanellope. She set the basket on the ground and with a melodramatic flourish of her hand, pulled the cloth away.

"Have some candy, you guys!"

Ralph stared at her. Vanellope clapped a hand to her mouth.

"Oh…what did I just say? That sounded so weird coming from me."

"Never mind," said Ralph, smiling "It's the thought that counts."

Vanellope grinned sheepishly. "Right, right, of course." She turned several cartwheels, shouting all the while: "We're alive, we're _alive_!"

"Uh, Vanellope?" said Ralph. "We can go ahead and eat now right?"

Vanellope paused in the middle of a handstand.

"Sure, right, go ahead. Oh, it's so good to be alive!"

She tumbled onto her back, laughing hysterically, while Sergeant Calhoun carefully divided the contents of the basket into portions.

"Got to ration everything properly," she by way of answer to Felix's curious expression.

"Always the soldier," Ralph muttered.

"What was that?" Calhoun asked.

"Nothing, nothing," Ralph said, holding up his hands.

"Have it your way," said Sergeant Calhoun, turning back to her task.

Vanellope had stopped laughing. She sat up and looked about at each of them.

"So many bad memories," she said. "But so many good ones too."

She smiled.

"Thank you, all of you."

"For what?" Felix asked.

"For being my friends."

* * *

**And so another story is completed. Thank you to all my readers for staying with me. I hope you have enjoyed the ride.**


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